


Graffiti Girl

by bobilina



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Artists, Borderline Personality Disorder, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Daddy Issues, Depression, Divorce, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, High School, Inspired by Music, Music, Musical References, Musicians, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Philophobia, References to Addiction, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, Triggers, Trust Issues, Wattpad Story, not exactly Canon - but not AU, not main character but it's in there, weird not exactly but you'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 117,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobilina/pseuds/bobilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>we're different kinds of artists.</p><p>we both know the world can be a shitty place.</p><p>we both have ways of making our own parts of it better.</p><p>you use music.</p><p>i use spray cans.</p><p>or, the one where she's a little fucked, and he's a little curious about the mystery hidden behind her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[Graffiti Girl Wattpad Link](https://www.wattpad.com/story/22171960-graffiti-girl)

_Sick of the system, don't wanna hear it. It's not a secret, that I'm just a reject!_

_[«Rejects» 5 Seconds of Summer](https://youtu.be/HJE_jdeCXBE) _

\-----

"Should it be a solid green or a flag design over the continent?" I ask Arabella. I'm just finishing up a new design that I want to start working on today, but want to show Arabella to get her take on the idea first.

"I say a solid color so it contrasts with the chaotic center image," she ponders aloud, looking over the sketch.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So green? I was just thinking it would represent the wholeness and healthy ideal of the country while the underlying reality is so broken and combustible."

"No, yeah, I like it. Maybe you should expand the shell image to the globe instead of just Australia. I think it would capture the idea of how everyone, not just one people, are creating this mess under the world we imagined now becoming so much more."

"Okay, I like that! Let's do it!" I yell excitedly, raising my hand to high five my best friend.

I think the design has turned out really cool, in the end. Hopefully it turns out as cool against concrete as it does on paper.

"Okay, now that we are done with that, let's get this math homework done before the period is over. I really don't want to have to do it tonight," I grumble, turning the sheet in my notebook to start the assignment written on the board. R laughs, leaning back in her seat doing the same.

"You make me laugh. Most girls who spend their free time in an abandoned building aren't exactly concerned about school."

I chuckle lightly at her and roll my eyes, looking down at my paper to start my work. This is a recurring conversation, so I answer the same way I do every time she brings it up.

"I guess I like to defy stereotypes."

"Right," she laughs before she hunches back over the desk and begins her work as well. At least she's doing it. I know it is mostly because I refuse to ditch--most of the time, at least--and insist on at least doing my work. I'm not the straight A student, but I got A's and B's with maybe one C per semester.

And what I said was true; I don't go by stereotypes. I'm none of them, anyways. Or you can argue I am a lot of them, I guess. I don't really know, and I don't really care either. I guess not caring is a stereotype in itself... If so, then fine. I'm the girl who doesn't care what anyone thought and just does whatever makes her happy.

Then again, that is a total lie. I do care what people think, so I just do the things that make me happy without people knowing. I guess I'm that stereotype then; the girl that hides who she is for fear of being judged. But at the same time... I mean yes, I do hide certain attributes of myself so that I don't have to deal with what certain people think about certain things, but it's more about self-preservation. They shouldn't care about what makes me happy or who I really am, but they would, so I just keep it to myself because it's easier that way.

Is that a stereotype then? I don't even know. I'm confusing myself. These days, everything is a stereotype so that there is no more sense of individuality because whoever you are, you are trying be something else.

"Hey, Andi. Do you get number three?" R whispers to me.

I laugh and look over to her. "You're on three? Babe, I'm on seventeen."

She giggles and shoves my shoulder with hers. "Shut up and help me."

"Fine." I reach over and start explaining the problem to her. Once I finish and show her the end result, she stares at it for a moment before looking up to me with her 'innocent eyes', obviously not understanding what the hell just happened. She holds my gaze for a second before she starts laughing uncontrollably. It takes a millisecond before I join her.

"Alandria! Arabella! What are you two doing?" Mrs. McNally scolds.

"We are doing our math," I manage to say, pulling my lips between my teeth to manage my giggles.

"Then what are you laughing at?" she asks, incredulously.   
I look over to R, barely managing to keep a somewhat straight face as I look back up to Mrs. McNally.

"Math," I blurt out, honestly. This is all it takes for Arabella to completely loose it, dragging me to the depths with her.

"Right," Mrs. McNally responds, with the 'I'm not buying your bullshit' look, but with a smile on her face. She is always a good sport.

"It's true! She laughs at everything!" I giggle.

"Okay, girls," she chuckles and walks back to her desk.   
R and I continue to laugh our asses off for a few minutes after she leaves us to our work.

Finally, the final bell rings and I stuff my papers back into my bag before I sling it over my shoulder.

"Ready?"

"Yep," R responds, following my actions.

We walk out of the classroom and out into the hallways. I say hi and exchange a few words with some of my friends from other classes as we walk towards the exit.

I'm not popular by any means, but I'm comfortable with where I am. Not everyone likes me and I don't like everyone. The people I like, like me as well, for the most part. That is the way it is supposed to be, and I'm more than fine with that.

Arabella is my best friend and we mainly stick to each other. She's like me in the sense that too many people just frustrate me. I can't handle too many significant relationships without getting overwhelmed. I can only handle so much  _people_.

That's also the reason I have never really had a boyfriend. And no, I'm not just saying that because I can't get one. I had one a few years ago for a couple months, but I just couldn't take having to talk to him every single day for hours and then spend time with him on the weekends and after school. I avoided him for a large portion of our relationship simply because I wanted space.

There are moments when I think it might be nice to have a boyfriend to do this or that with, from time to time, but the rest of the time I don't want to deal with them.

Basically, boyfriends are just too much work.

This has also, however, earned me the title of 'tease' among my friends, since whenever I talk or flirt with a guy, I eventually get bored or just forget about them and never talk to them again. My friends say I just liked to lead them on but I honestly just enjoy the fun little flirtations and not having to worry about feeling responsible to talk or meet up with him later and turn it into anything serious.

Plus, R and I manage fine on our own, for the time being.

Once we reach the main entrance of the school, we make our way quickly to my car in the parking lot. It's still winter, and cold as balls outside.

"I love the cold, as long as I don't have to be cold," I laugh when we finally reach the car. I walk over to the driver's side while R hops in the passenger seat. She still doesn't have her license since the lazy ass doesn't want to have to take the classes. Not that she really needs it, anyways. I mean, anywhere she normally goes, I am with her, and if she needs to she can walk to my house and the warehouse. So, there isn't much motivation for her to spend the time or effort. The only reason I even got it is because I'm lazy as fuck and don't want to be walking everywhere. Plus my mom wanted me to take my brother to his football and volleyball practices he insists has to take up any free time he may be given. After driving him to three different practices most days of the week for a year or so, she thought it was a 'good time' for me to start driving.   
Shivering slightly, I pull a blanket I keep in the back of my car and place it over my lap. R tries to steal a piece but I give her a look so she rolls her eyes and grabs her similar one from the back as well and gets herself cozy.

"I know what you mean. Let's stop for Starbucks before we head to the warehouse."

"I like the way you think."   
I turn the key and the car rumbles to a start. I immediately crank up the heater on full blast.

"We still have the space heater at the warehouse, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, we should."

"Perfect."

With that I pull out of the school and make my way to the drive-through Starbucks right around the corner.

I pull up to the window to order.

"One Venti Chai Latte and one Venti Hot Chocolate with a shot of Espresso."

"You know me so well," R coos, jokingly.

"You know it." I wink back at her.

We both giggle and drive ahead to pick up our drinks.

I hand R hers and set mine down in the middle console before turning out of the lot and onto the main roads.

"You know, one of these days you should just try getting an actual mocha," R laughs.

"What's the fun in that? And besides, I've had a mocha. My concoction is just better."

"Whatever you say, And."   
I just shake my head and lean forward to turn up the radio.

"Oh, I love this song!" I yell excitedly as I hear the melody flows through my car speakers.

"Isn't this My Chemical Romance?"

"Yep! I'm Not Okay (I Promise)."

"Yes! I love them!"

We sing along to the song for the remainder of the ride before we pull up behind the warehouse.

I shut the car off and grab my backpack and Starbucks before heading over to the building.

I climb the ladder of the fire escape, careful to not spill my coffee. After reaching the first landing, I wait for R before continuing up the next four flights of stairs. Once we reach the top floor, I push open the nearest window and skillfully climb through, like many times before.

As soon as we are both in, we shut the window and plop down on the couch.

The warehouse is basically an old abandoned building a few miles away from the center of town. It used to be an office or maybe a storage space of some sort. I think I've heard before it was some sort of radio station, but I've also heard it was a gym so I'm not really sure.

Whatever it was, it's mainly empty now, except for us.   
A few years ago, when I first met Arabella, we found this place and ended up making it our own.

There's a small bathroom but has a tiny ass corner shower that I suppose was meant for employees to use if they wanted to come in early or something. It is big enough to be decently comfortable though. There is an old couch that had been left in the building that we cleaned up a bit. We brought in some pillows and blankets. A while ago we even brought up an old mattress R's parents asked her to take to the dump. So rather often we end up staying the night on it. Don't even ask how we managed to get that up the fire escape. All I'll say is that it was a challenge.

Technically, there are interior stairs leading up from the ground floor we could take, but from time to time, different riff raff likes to occupy the lower levels that we usually try to avoid, seeing as they range in their personalities from normal enough to psychos. There is another 'permanent' group that hangs out in the level below us, and the lowest three are left for what we like to call the 'nomad parties', seeing as they usually stay for a month or so and then find another place to claim as theirs. We all have an understanding here, though. We don't cause trouble with each other, and no one has a problem. We have met the people on the fourth floor a few times, being 'neighborly' I guess you could say. They seem chill enough and manage to keep the nomads away from our space when we aren't here, and we do the same for them.

We each use our levels for different purposes.

The nomads are always different. Most tend to use the place as a hangout spot to get high or wasted. But then from time to time, they will use it for something of actual purpose, like an art studio, similar to what we do, or maybe some sort of rehearsal space. One group a while back even went to the extent of turning the whole second floor into a fully functional dark room for their photography. Of course, when they left they took all of their supplies with them so it's no longer there, but you can still see the remnants of spilt chemicals and cracked black lights in the concrete.

The fourth floorers mostly use theirs as a hangout, I think. A lot of them don't have the best home lives, and end up practically living here. There are about 10 of them interchangeably, I think.

Arabella and I use our level as a hangout, yes, but mainly as our private graffiti studio.

Over the years, we have managed to cover just about every inch in spray paint. It had only taken us a matter of months to completely cover the first wall. After that, we formulated a system;

We work on one wall at a time, and one painting at a time. Once we finish a piece, we take a picture of it and pin it to the far right wall which is designated just for photographs. It's a brick wall so it doesn't work as well for detailed works, anyways. When we fill an entire wall, we take a picture of it and stick it up, as well. Then, we move on to the next wall. When we finish all of the available three, we paint over all of our work with white paint and start over again.

I walk over to our collection of spray paint cans--some empty, some full--and pick out a few colors I want to use as the base for my new piece from the crate box.

I collect a black, white, and a few shades of green before I walk over to grab my sketch from my bag. I had drawn in some colors so it looks finished on paper.

"Do we have to start right away? I want a nap," R grumbles as she pulls a blanket over her curled up figure on the couch.

"You can nap, but I want to get started on this one while it's fresh in my head."

"All I heard was that I could nap," she responds, closing her eyes. I laugh and continue to gather my materials.

I quickly plug in my phone to our speakers and press shuffle, the voices of Mayday Parade immediately filling the air. Soon I have everything laid out and pull on my mask, not being interested in inhaling the fumes.

I bend down to pick up the can of black paint, pressing down on the cap and pulling it across the empty wall as the rest of the world slips away, and I'm left with a blank canvas, my mind, and my music.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_We're always running away. And we don't even stop to think about it. The world's in our hands. Yeah. They don't need to understand. We do it all our way. No matter what they try to say about it. We've got our own plans. Yeah. They don't need to understand._

_[«They Don't Need To Understand» Andy Black](https://youtu.be/LICMmzOqLoE) _

\-----

"Wake up! Andi!"

"What is it R?" I grumble, cuddling back into the covers.

"There's someone coming up the stairs!" she whisper-yells at me as I pull myself up off the pillow.

I rub my eyes and grab the baseball bat we keep by the bed. Hey! Don't judge! We are two high schoolers who spend the majority of our lives in an abandoned warehouse. We have to have something to protect ourselves and a gun would just be too messy.

I stand up from the mattress, leaving Arabella cowering behind a blanket. I swear, the girl is all tough and shit until we are alone in the dark... or there's a spider. Then she may as well be a pissing toddler.

"Get him! Hit his head!" R hisses from the bed.

"Shh!" I snap back at her.   
I walk carefully to the stairway. Once I'm close, I can definitely hear footsteps climbing towards us.

I quickly move, doing my best in remaining silent against the concrete floor, to press my back against the wall beside the door when the sound is probably just about reaching the fourth floor.

Seconds later, the knob jingles, signally someone turning it from the other side. This would be a great time to have a working lock on the door.

Slowly, the door is pushed open. It's too dark to decipher a face, but the shadow is distinctively male.

He still hasn't noticed me. The door is wide open as he looks around trying to make heads or tails or his surroundings. He begins to take a step into the room. I raise my elbows behind me and swing the bat around towards his silhouette.

"What the fuck?!" the voice calls out and breaks the eerie silence, then ducking under the swinging stick.

I ignore his call and swing the bat at him once more, letting out an aggressive grunt. I almost hit his torso before he jumps out of the way. I lose sight of his shadow in the hustle, so I quickly spin around to relocate the intruder. The dark is disorienting, and suddenly I feel myself being pushed back against the wall with a strong arm pressed across my chest.

"Let me go!" I cry and try to break free. Unfortunately, he has the bat pinned across my torso, keeping my elbows placed firmly against the cement walls. I can feel his heavy breaths fan across my face as we continue our struggle.

Suddenly, a light is flicked on from across the room. I look over to see R standing by one of the lamps we have set up around the room, holding a pink spray paint can in her hand held up ready to spray but not moving from her safe distance from both me and the intruder. Great help, R.

"What do you want?!" I scream, flicking my attention back to the intruder. Now that I can see his features, I'm surprised to find an admittedly attractive boy about our age a few inches from my face.

"What do I want?! You're the one going bat-crazy!" he yells.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one sneaking around a dark warehouse in the middle of the night!" I shout back.

"No! You're just the one hanging out in a dark warehouse in the middle of the night!"

"Would you just let me go?!" I grunt, frustrated.

"Fine." He gives me a final shove backwards before stepping back to release me.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?!"

"I should be asking you the same thing!"

"Hey! This is our place! You are the one unwelcome here!"

"What do you mean, 'you're place'?! This building has been empty for a decade!"

"Look around genius!" I gesture wildly around us. He finally takes the opportunity to take in his surroundings, noticing our living space and colorful walls.

"So, what? You girls live here or something?" he scoffs, condescendingly.

"Something like that," I sneer back at him.

He rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, physically trying to calm himself down.

"Okay. Fine. Let's start over. I'm Ashton," he says, more calmly than our previous exchange. I look him up and down before rolling my eyes, as well.

"Fine. Whatever. I'm Alandria," I grumble, begrudgingly.

"What the fuck kind of name is that?" he laughs. "It sounds like 'Uhh-Laundy-Uhh'."

"You trying to piss me off?"

"Hey don't you go to our school?" R questions, finally entering the conversation.

"I don't know. Who are you?" he scoffs.

"My name's Arabella, asshole. And don't you go to Northwest Christian College?"

"Yeah, I go to Northwest. But I don't recognize either of you."

"Well aren't you special," I spit. I admit, I don't recognize him either, but R seems to, and the guy is just pissing me off.

"What are you even doing here?" R asks.

"My friends and I have been looking around town for a place for our band to practice. Word on the street is that this place had empty space. Didn't realize there were any permanent residents in this dump." He scowls at her.

"Ash! Where'd you go, man?!" I hear a voice call from the stairwell.

I look at him expectantly. He just rolls his eyes before responding, "Up here, mate!"

I look over to the door to see another boy our age walk through the entrance. He looks around at the three of us, curiously.

"What's going on here?" he speaks slowly.

"Who are you?" I spit before anyone has the chance to answer him.

"I'm Luke... Who are you?" he asks cautiously. At least he isn't as rude as his friend. He just seems lost to find himself in the current situation.

"Alandria, Arabella," I reply in a bored tone, pointing between us. "I'm guessing you're Asher's friend?"

"Ashton," the first boy rebuts, irritated.

"Yeah... So what's going on?" he asks.

"Ask your friend, here."

Ashton rolls his eyes. "I was just checking the place out when this chick came at me with a bat."

I turn to scowl at him. "Shall I repeat my reasoning? You were the one wandering a dark warehouse in the middle of the night."

"Okay, hey, let's calm down," Luke laughs, slightly uneasy. He's trying to settle the growingly tense mood, but it doesn't help much.

"Sorry," I grumble. Okay. Time to be the bigger person. Just try it out, for once. Maybe it will be nice.

Ha! Yeah right. Still, it's worth a shot--pleasant or not.

"You caught us off guard. We aren't used to company in this place. Two girls staying alone in an abandoned building tend to be a little gung-ho to mysterious guests barging in in the middle of the night."

A new expression crosses his face, seemingly recognizing my somewhat lame efforts at an olive branch.

"S'okay," he answers cautiously, but far less harsh as his earlier tone.

"So, anyways..." Luke trails, breaking the slightly awkward tension that had fallen across the room. "What do you guys use this place for?"

"Graffiti..." I shrug. "And just a place to hang out, really."

"Wait so you guys did all of this?" Ashton says, perking up as he takes in our colorful artwork covering the room.

"Yep. Pretty cool, huh?" R pipes up, obviously proud of our projects.

"Very," Luke chuckles, sounding equaling impressed as Ashton.

I take a deep breath, somewhat relieved we all seem to be getting along better.

"So you guys are looking for rehearsal space? Is it just you two or are there others?" R asks, sounding suddenly more curious of our guests.

"Yeah, but two of our other friends are in the band with us," Luke answers.

"Oh, well, you guys would be welcome to share the floor with us. There's more than enough room for us all," Arabella says, smoothly. I, on the other hand, am staring with my eyes bulging out of their sockets. She can't help but giggle at my expression, but quickly covers it up with a cough. I know the look on her face.

"Seriously?!" Luke cries excitedly.

"Yeah! Why not?! It could be fun having some other people around here. Not to mention free live music."

"Wow! Yeah! That would be amazing!"

Remind me to punch her in the throat for this.

"Why don't we help you guys move your stuff in here tomorrow. I imagine it'll take all of us to haul your band equipment up the fire escape," R laughs.

"Why don't we just use the stairs...?" Luke asks, slowly, obviously not understanding the logic.

"We don't use the stairs. There are always different people on the first three floors and we steer clear of them as much as we can. Especially since we have to walk all the way across the first floor to get to the stairwell, we prefer not to risk interacting with them. They aren't always the nicest people, you could say."

"Okay..." Ashton drawls out.   
"So, yeah. We can help you guys tomorrow if you are available." R smiles widely.

"Yes! I mean, sure! Sounds perfect!" Ashton agrees, excitedly.

"Great! Here, give me your phones! We'll put our numbers in," she says.

Luke hands her his phone and she types in her contact before walking over to give it to me, repeating the action with Ashton's phone.

"Well I guess we will see you girls tomorrow!" Ashton announces.

"See you guys! Nice meeting you!" Arabella says, happily.

We exchange a few more words of parting before they leave R and I alone once again.

I look over to my friend with daggers in my eyes.

"What the hell was that?!" I shout.

She just chuckles and rolls her eyes as she moves to get back into bed.

"They seem like cool enough guys, admit it."

"Don't even! I saw you ogling Luke!"

"Can you blame me?!" she laughs. "And, come on, it may be fun to have some more people to hang out with around here."

"I know all about how much you want to 'hang out' with those guys."

She gasps, mockingly. "What do you take me for?! Some type of prostisloot?!"

"No, just a regular sloot."

She smirks through her evil glare. "Whatever. What's done is done and by tomorrow we will have four new roommates!" she says, hardly apologetic. It doesn't take much to know she in no way regrets her actions.

I admit, to a certain extent, I'm happy for her. This is the first time she has shown any interest in a guy since her douche ex-boyfriend, Ryan, cheated on her. She actually isn't a slut, I just like to give her a hard time for some of the rendezvous she has had over the years. But really, it's no absurd amount and, most of them, she had been going out with the guy a reasonable amount of time before she slept with them.

And I mean, I'm not exactly a virgin either, but I also don't even need an entire hand to count my partners.

Either way, now we have four new 'friends' invading our space.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. And apparently, we are helping four teenage boys move in tomorrow," I sneer sarcastically as I walk over to join her on the mattress.

"It won't be that bad," she teases, turning off the lamp and pulling the blankets over her.

"You say that now..." I say, mocking her actions.

"Whatever," she chuckles before yawning. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for feeding us years of lies. Thank you for the wars you left us to fight. Thank you for the world you ruined overnight. But we'll be fine, yeah we'll be fine._

_[«Thank You» MKTO](https://youtu.be/X0gtzHJphVg) _

\-----

Two hours. Two fucking hours is how long it took us to get all of the guys' equipment to the fifth floor, are with all six of us.

Luckily, we are finally done and I can get to work on my painting while the guys did their own shtick. I walk over to the wall I had begun on and pick up a lighter green than I had been using to begin the shading on the continents that I had sprayed on the days before. It is already looking decent and coming along nicely. The basic two-color globe with minimal depth and shading had already been set and I even was able to start the peeling layers from the center so it looks like the world is opening to a black hole, at the moment.

Anyhow, I slip my mask on and raise my hand to the coast of Italy. Just as I an about to press down on the top to begin the first stroke, a voice wakes me from my concentration.

"So what are you makin' over there?"

I roll my eyes and turn around to see Ashton who I had presumed to be preoccupied with setting up his drum kit in the opposite corner. I take off my mask as I see he will most likely want some sort of conversation to occur. This is why I don't like people.

"Trying to make a pretty picture," I say, somewhat patronizing his question.

He just scoffs and rolls his eyes. When I think he had decided to leave it alone, he starts strolling over to my side of the room.

"Well I was actually wondering what that 'pretty picture' consisted of."

"Look at the sketch over there," I say in a bored tone and point over to my notebook laying open on the drawing with my set out cans of paint. "That's what it will turn out looking like, anyways."

He bends down to look at the sketch in his hands. When he seems satisfied he rises and walks back over to stand in front of me. I never realized how tall he was, and found myself leaning on the wall with my arms crossed to make it appear I'm not as short as I was standing up straight. I'm not actually that short, however, making his height even more impressive and admittedly, slightly intimidating. I'm a solid 5'7" maybe 5'8". That makes him at least six foot.

"Seems cool. Is it just like the center of the earth or something?"

I let my shoulders fall and roll my eyes, walking over to pick up the notebook. He follows me over and turns so that we can both see while I explain it.

"No. It represents the world we see as a shell of what it really holds. See the outer part is the pretty greens and blues and colors we associate with what we expect the world we live it to really be, but when you peel it back, it actually holds this run-down essentially dystopian society that plagues reality."

I look up to see if he understands my meaning behind the work, and see him nodding in a manner of what I assume to be acceptation.

"That's a cool idea. But I can't help but notice a slight cynicism in its idea...?" he trails off, laughing slightly.

"I like to think of it as realism. It isn't putting a cover over what it really is. It just shows it like it actually is."

"But that's just your opinion. What if it actually isn't all darkness hidden in light?"

"Because it is. Sure there are patches here and there of the purity the world began with, but essentially society has corrupted most everything. It takes what the world originally gave us and turns it into what it intends to be better than how it started and just ends up destroying everything that was with the darkness that is. They then use the light it used to hold to cover up what has become of it."

He looks slightly taken aback by my words, probably not expecting a 'pretty little girl' like me to hold such views of the world, just as everyone else thinks when they hear similar explanations come from my mouth.

"Kind of a depressing way to look at the world, isn't it?" he asks, still disbelievingly.

"Would you rather I look at it like the rest of humanity? With ignorance that everything is perfect?" I challenge right back, now getting annoyed. This always happens when I get into a conversation like this with people. They always end up wanting me to see the pretty colors in the world instead of what it really is. They want me to go back to the innocence and ignorance most girls my age seem to still hold.

"Not with ignorance. Just with a more neutral view so you can see that there is elements of both darkness and lightness in society."

"The only light I see in the world is art and music. Everything else holds similar elements of conformity that restrain everything from its true potential. Art and music don't have to be anything. They can be whatever the artists and viewers or listeners want. It's all in the eye of the beholder so society has no chance to corrupt it, because to each its own."

"What if society has already corrupted the eyes of the beholder?" he responds cockily, thinking he has me trapped.

_Please!_

"That's the problem, isn't it? The flaw in that reasoning is that anyone who creates and appreciates the art I'm talking about--real art--isn't so naïve. The rest of them, I don't care about. The rest of them are society's problem."

I smirk back at his scowling expression, seeming to come to the realization I have a full arsenal to fire back at anything he shoots in this debate.

We continue to stare each other down before R comes over to us and breaks us apart.

"Is she giving you the 'society rant'?" R laughs looking at Ashton.

"Hey!" I cry back at her. "Don't think your opinions are any different."

"No, but I also know better than to get into that argument with people who, at a certain point, are more or less pointless to argue with." She smirks chuckling at me. "Come on! Why don't we all hang out and get to know everyone?" she suggests.

"Fine," I grumble and walk over to plop down on the sofa, crossing my legs and arms as I sit back. I see Ashton and R laugh with each other at something or other before walking over to me. R sits next to me, smiling, and I turn to lay down resting my head on her lap. She moves her arm to rest over me and play with my hair as I snuggle into her. Ashton goes over to the other three boys who were still setting up their equipment and brings them over to sit around us. We had brought in a few bean bags and cushions since we now have six people occupying the space, instead of two.

"So, I don't think I even know your names besides Luke and Ashton," R begins with a chuckle.

"Well I'm Calum," the Asian looking boy says, surprisingly politely.

"I'm Michael." I look more closely at the boy with the fiery red hair, curious about the choice of color, but deciding to ask him about it later so that isn't the first thing he hears come from my mouth.

"Well, I'm Arabella Writhe but you can call me R. However, if you call me Bella, I will slit your throats on the spot," R speaks firmly. I notice the boys somewhat scared for a moment after she says that, which makes me chuckle.

"I'm Alandria Parker, but call me Andi," I say, not moving from my position on R's lap.

"Nice to meet you lovely ladies," Calum says.

"Do you guys wanna play a game to get to know each other better?" R suggests. I groan internally at her suggestion. I want to go paint, not fool around with a bunch of dip-wads invading our home.

"Sure! What do you wanna play?" Luke asks. I almost want to laugh. I know exactly what game we will end up playing, as well as how it will turn out for everyone involved.

"Never Have I Ever!" R squeals. I cringe at the shrillness of her screech and pull a cushion from the other side of her over my head.

"No screaming!" I shout, although I'm sure the only one who understands me is R seeing as I'm muffled by the pillow and she doesn't need to hear me to know what I said.

"Stop being a whiny puss and go get the hooch!" she scolds and rips the pillow from my grasp. I turn to scowl at her before just getting up and walking over to the old fridge we kept in there to store food and drinks. Next to it was a box where we kept the liquor. I look through what we have a full bottle of, and find only a whiskey and vodka.

"Whisk or V?!" I shout behind me to the crew.

"Vodka!" R shouts back. I face back to pick up the clear crystal bottle and bring it back to sit on the couch.

"So, do you guys know how to play?" I ask. I'll admit, I enjoy this game from time to time, and seeing as it is usually only me and R playing and most of our experiences are shared with the other, it's exciting to play with different people.

"Yeah, I think we've got it. You just drink if you've done what the person says, right?" Michael asks. Seriously, I can't stop staring at the kid's head. Did he just stick his head in cranberry juice?

"Yep! Okay, I'll go first!" R laughs excitedly. "Never have I ever... had a threesome."

All the boys' eyes popped out of their sockets.

"This girl doesn't beat around the bush, does she?" Calum asks, looking to me.

"Yeah, no, subtlety is not her strong suit. But hey, the way I see it, it makes life more entertaining," I laugh in response. He just nods and waits for someone to reach for the bottle, and Michael is the only one who steps forward. That one does not surprise me much, actually. Maybe it's the hair, I just have no idea what my expectations are for this boy, so anything flew.

"Andi, your turn!" R says, looking to me.

"Okay... Never have I ever been walked in on."

I chuckle as literally everyone goes to take a swig from the bottle.

"Okay, Luke, go!" I say and look to the blonde boy.

"Hmm... never have I ever... had sex in a public bathroom."

I take a swig for that one, as do R and Mikey. We pass the bottle between us while Calum comes up with his question.

"Never have I ever... had sex in the back of a pick-up truck."

I chuckle and reach forward to the clear liquid. "You're missing out."

My second swig doesn't have as much of the burn as the first one did going down, and I'm starting to feel the effects of the alcohol already loosening my mood. I'm typically a happy drunk, however there are also times when liquor brings out the real bitch in me. It's always a toss up to see which one you'll get.

"Never have I ever fallen asleep during sex," Michael says smugly as Calum hesitantly reaches forward for the bottle. We watch his sour expression as he takes a drink before we all burst out laughing.

"What the fuck dude?! How did you manage to do that?!" I laugh loudly.

"I was drunk out of my mind and passed out!" he defends himself.

"Weak," I mutter and earn a scowl from the Asian boy. Or is he Asian? I don't know. I'll find out later.

"Ok, me!" Ashton shrieks. "Never have I ever had my nudes leaked over the internet."

My eyes widen before watching Calum roll his eyes and go to take another drink. I can't help the laughter bubbling from my throat.

"Seriously Clum?! Where are they, oh my god, we have to find them!" I shriek through hysterical laughter. I think the alcohol has probably helped with that.

"Clum? Did you just call me Clum?" Calum asks, confused, but seeing as he has already downed three swigs, he's too tipsy to really care.

I shrug. "I like Clum. From here on out you will be Clum!"

We all laugh at the stupid joke or whatever it is. An hour or so later, we are all hammered out of our minds, and eventually end up passing out to the stench of retch and liquor.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_It's carpe diem till the very end. I have no regrets._

_[«Carpe Diem» You Me At Six](https://youtu.be/UEtX-m692vw) _

\-----

"So what do you think of our new roomies?" R asks. We plop down on the mattress and I curl up with my blanket in my lap. It's around dinner time and the boys said they needed to be heading home or Luke's mom would kill him--pansy ass--so it's back to just the two of us. I like it this way. This way feels comfortable. It is exhausting being around really anyone but R because I feel the need to put on a face and socialize and be pleasant.

"They seem chill enough. I like Michael's hair. I can tell we are going to get along already," I chuckle and reach up to play with my blue streaked dark-brown hair. R laughs along with me.

"Yeah I can see that. I think he has more piercings than you do."

"Oh come on! I don't have that many! And none in any weird places!" It's true. I admit, I have a few more than simple earrings, but not absurd. I just have a small nose ring on my right nostril and some cartilage piercings on my left ear. Although I do appreciate Mike's eyebrow piercing. I may have to look into getting one of my own.

"Well at least your whole head isn't a blueberry!"

I scowl at her. I know she likes what I did with the coloring in my hair, but she also likes to give me a hard time about it. Same with the piercings. I only have some blended streaks and shading of navy blue and then I added some slim pieces of a brighter blue near them to contrast it a bit. Nothing absurd.

"Whatever. I'm just saying I appreciate it."

"We have to make them play for us tomorrow." She lets out a yawn and begins to curl up beside me. I just nod and move to lay down in my spot. I scoot over and make R roll on her back so that I can use her stomach as a pillow. I fist my blanket in my hand and pull it up under my chin, wiggling a bit as I snuggle into her loosely-fitted t-shirt.

Letting out a yawn of my own, I mumble a 'love you' and close my eyes, however I can feel myself becoming more and more awake by the second. This tends to happen to me. I'll be exhausted and when I finally find myself able to lay down and fall asleep, my mind wakes up and decides to try and solve the world's issues whilst lying in bed.

Still, I don't get out of bed. I've learned that when this happens, I just have to kind of wait it out. Sometimes I'll do other things and then go back to bed, but tonight I just lay here.

I can't stop thinking about those boys.

It's like one of those times where for no logical reason whatsoever, a person just inserts themselves into your mind and you can't shake them. It's beyond infuriating. Yet I find myself curious as to what these boys have about them that stuck in my brain. They are a funny group of quirky guys, that's no doubt. And it's obvious Luke and R have some sort of weird thing brewing. I may only know a bit about Luke, but I know everything about R. From the way she looks at him, I can tell she likes everything she sees. By the way Luke was giving back every glance and smirk she threw at him, he was thinking the same. I have yet to determine how I feel about that. I'll be the first to admit I am protective about R, especially when it comes to guys.

Whatever. R is a big girl and Luke doesn't seem too bad. The good part about him is that I know he can't escape easily in this situation. It'll be harder for him to do and dump when we are spending our free time in the same place with us and the rest of his band.

Calum seems like a good guy that would be there to make Luke see between right and wrong if need be. I think I could trust him to be backup for me on the other side of things if something does happen between them and then takes a bad turn.

But then came Ashton Irwin. Something about him just irks me. He is obnoxious and cocky and seems to be smiling and happy about any shit his mind thinks of. But then he has this edgy side of him that can also come to play.

Then there's Michael. I know I liked him already; he's just like me. He is quirky and out there and just kind of did things without worrying about how other people react or think, but is also quiet and likes to keep to himself if he has the option. He just does him and doesn't let stereotypes confine his personality. I mean for Christ's sake, he is like a punk teddy bear stuffed inside the body and brain of a teenage boy. He is intriguing and different and interesting. In the short time that I have gotten to know him, he's definitely shown he's funny and sarcastic--two of my best personal traits. He's go with the flow without letting the world push him around. I know we will be getting along famously.

I may be judging them all solely on what I have learned in the last few hours of getting to know all of them, but there are certain elements of someone that can't be erased, even upon first impression. They can be misinterpreted or seen in a negative or positive light, but they're there. I'll give them a chance to explain those first-off elements, just to be fair. But I am going to be wary of them until then.

But... Ugh! Dammit I wish I was born with more patience--less curiosity.

Okay I have to force myself to forget about that for just a minute so I can fall asleep. Otherwise I will be tossing and turning all night and won't sleep a wink before I have to see them again tomorrow.

I take a deep breath and try to clear my head as I feel my heart begin to slow its beats. Thank goodness...

Before long, I find myself sinking farther and farther into a dream state before my mind goes black and gives me the peace and quiet only unconsciousness can bring.

\-----

_Michael's POV_

"What is all this?" I ask, coming up behind Andi. She seems startled at my presence and jumps a bit. I laugh.

"Don't do that," she scolds with a smile.

"Sorry," I chuckle. "But really, you have all of these covering every wall. Are they just cool to look at or do you have a story behind them?" I ask, honestly curious.

She shrugs. "Sure some of them are just kind of random, but all my favorites have some meaning."

"What does this one mean, then?" I ask, pointing to a pair of handcuffs painted on the cement a few feet over. Only the cuffs are linked together, and their chain broken. It's drawn detached down the center of the two, a small key hanging at the end.

"Oh," she says, almost sounding startled for whatever reason, and walks closer to the picture. "I love this one. See this?" she asks and shows me her wrist. Hanging on it is a single handcuff.

"Where did you get a handcuff bracelet?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "No, see one of the fourth floorers got arrested. It wasn't anything awful, just minor vandalism or something. But he escaped before they got him in the car somehow. I guess it was a small enough offense they kinda let him go and forgot about him. But when he showed up here he needed help getting the cuffs off. R and I keep some tools here for messing with the spray cans when they won't work right or this and that. So we cut the chain on either side just to get it out of the way and all. After like ten minutes of figuring out the best way to get the actual cuffs off, his buddy comes looking for him. They had done whatever he did to get arrested together but this guy didn't get seen so he hid until he saw his friend run off. The guy was actually pretty smart and took the cop by surprise when he ran by with a switch and cut the chord connecting the cop's keys to his belt. I'm pretty sure he had done something like that before because you kind of have to know where you are aiming for and how to cut it at the right place while on the move. But hey that's his business," she chuckles, however it comes off almost humorless. "Anyways, he brought the keys and we unlocked the cuffs. They thanked us and all, but R and I asked if we could keep the cuffs. They didn't care and gave them to us with the chain and key. Although they did only give us the one key. Actually pretty sure they still have the rest of them to use as they please. But we decided they'd be cool like friendship bracelets and shit. Like the whole 'partners in crime' motto, only not so cheesy I hope. The chain and key are hanging inside the refrigerator door for safe keeping."

"So is this a representation of your friendship of something?"

"Something like that." She stares mesmerized with her own work. The only reason I asked the question I already knew the answer to, or at least the one she gave me in more or less words, is that I can tell there was more going on in her mind.

"What part of your relationship?" I ask.

She exhales heavily. "The chain linking us is broken, but that isn't even close to being enough to rip us apart. We just have to find a new way of staying connected. The new way is even stronger now. The chain is the weakest part of handcuffs. Now it hangs alone with the key; the thing that once held us together and the only thing that could tear us apart."

"What's the key?" I whisper, seeing this is obviously something she had spent a long time thinking about.

"My worst nightmare--the end."

"Of you and R?"

"Without R there is no me. She keeps me breathing, and that's the terrifying thruth," she admits solemnly. This conversation has taken a deep and meaningful turn--something I was not expecting when I originally asked for her art's stories. I mean I guess I assumed some could hold serious meaning, but she seems so in her own world. Like the mere thought of this fear of her world without her best friend was enough to break her from reality.

She's the most bizarrely interesting and complex wild girl I've ever met, and it's fucking amazing.

I want to ask her what she meant when she said R was the only thing keeping her alive, but I know better than to push my boundaries like that. She seems like the kind of person that will let you know her life facts if she trusts you to a certain extent, but holds her true feelings for a very select few. I like that she trusts me enough for the facts as it seems, but to actually reveal how the facts effect her or how she feels about them is too much so soon. Maybe one day, but I could never push someone to reveal emotions they aren't comfortable sharing. Maybe if it were one of the guys because I know them so well and I've earned a position to push them to do what is best for themselves, which may be sharing what's wrong. However, that's nowhere near the situation with Andi. I'm waiting behind her wall and will give her all the time she needs to bring them down. I like her as a person enough to want to stick around and see what lies beneath.

"So are you guys any good?" Andi asks, changing the subject, and wipes her hands off on a colorful rag coated in various paints.

I chuckle and walk over to pick up my guitar where it had been standing up waiting to be played.

"Are we good you ask?" I laugh. Slinging the bass strap over my shoulder and lightly strumming some random tune, the other boys all gravitate over to their own instruments, seeing where I was going with this. "Any requests?"

Andi looks at me with a sly smile and amused eyes.

"Show me whatever you got," she taunts.

I laugh and look over to the others as I begin playing the opening chords to a song cover we had recently been working on--Carpe Diem by You Me At Six.

With a sly grin, I look to Calum and Luke and they start off the intro. Ashton picks up the beat with a plain tempo before we break into the first verse.

Luke starts off singing,

_"We sat outside 'til we were numb. Two Coronas and limes and our thoughts. We talked of our life and how far we'd come. It took a while, but we waited for the sun."_

I smirk as we started the chorus. R was full on dancing along ridiculously and Andi even seemed mildly impressed. Their reactions didn't surprise me at all. R had seemed to just go with the whole band and music thing from the beginning, but Andi seemed more skeptical of our actual musical ability, I suppose.

Calum breaks into the second verse with a similar smirk in witnessing the girls enjoying our performance.

_"Do you know, when you get old, you'll look back and sweeten your soul? You took me apart to see inside. You took me away to feel the life. We're California dreaming."_

I hold in a laugh as R grabs Andi's wrists and swings them around in rhythm with her dancing. She chuckles and finally allows herself to get into the music a tad and begins dancing around a little with her friend. She rolls her eyes but she was refraining a full blown smile, so she doesn't fool me. Her reluctance doesn't even phase R as she continues to pull her into dancing.

_"Oh, everybody knows you're a risk worth taking. Option worth attention. I can't figure this one out for now."_

I can't help but let the laughter rip through my throat when Andi throws her arms above her head and begins dancing like a rabid squirrel and singing along to the words. R pauses her jumping for a second to throw her head back in laughter with me before resuming lip-syncing the lyrics back at her friend.

During the dramatic buildup of the bridge, the two point a finger and sing the words at each other, continuing swiveling and dancing with their hips; the amused smiles never leave their faces.

We are reaching the end of the song and the pair is full out jumping up and down and flailing their arms around each other. I smile and sing along for the last line.

_"It's carpe diem till the very end. I have no regrets. Carpe diem 'til the bitter end."_

As soon as our instruments silence, the girls jump and scream at the top of their lungs.

"That was kick ass!" R squeals and laughs.

"I totally underestimated you guys!" Andi calms down more than R but still is not able to hide the smile on her face as she compliments our little performance. I chuckle at her comment, knowing before how little she actually expected of us.

I swing my guitar off my shoulder, putting it back on its stand, and walk over with the boys to Andi and R.

"So we aren't as bad as you expected?" I ask.

Andi shrugs one shoulder and tries her best to wipe the amused smile off her face, but it doesn't seem to be leaving any time soon.

"You were better, I'll admit that much." She knocks me with her hip playfully and smirks devilishly before adding, "But I literally expected close to nothing, so don't go getting a big head."

I chuckle but nod along with her.

"You guys wanna go get something to eat? There's this great diner not too far. It's a little run down, but aren't we all?" Andi speaks to the group, finishing with a laugh. Her small smile makes my lips tug upward slightly, as well. All of the sudden she seemed to perk up and the light lit up in her eyes. I imagine she must be remembering some great memory brought on by the mention of the restaurant by the way her entire presence suddenly radiates happiness. I can see her as a child, running up the aisle to slide in a booth with her parents yelling after her to calm down, but laughing and rolling their eyes at their little troublemaker as she bounced up and down in her seat while waiting for her parents to catch up without a care in the world.

I look at the hardened girl with a small smile before me and the image seems to fit perfectly in my eyes. The world may have taken its toll on her, but she has this brightness that refused to extinguish. In moments like this where I can see the happy past through her eyes makes me grow even more blown away by the girl with the golden-brown eyes and blue streaked hair.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Can you tell from the look in her eyes?_

_[«Shadow Moses» Bring Me the Horizon](https://youtu.be/tHRdZ3wmSXQ) _

\-----

"Why can't we ditch?" R groans for the tenth time since this break began.

"Because school is important," I sigh. I feel like I have this same conversation with her more often than I should. She's just never been a huge fan of school, or at least high school. And probably college... but we have almost two years before we have to deal with that.

"Ugh!" she groans and knocks her forehead against her closed locker door. I twist the lock of my own right beside hers before it pops open and I trade out my maths book for the stuff I need in my Advanced English class next. English is one of my favorite subjects because I love reading and writing, for the most part at least, and love the in class discussions about the literature and debating meanings of different themes and characters. R likes English as well, but is in the regular class. Not because she isn't smart enough for the advanced course, just that the whole not liking school thing gets in her way and she doesn't care for making it more aggravating.

"You have Chemistry next, don't you? Why do you wanna skip? I thought you loved that class?"

"I just love it because Dr. Mafia loves me!" she laughs as she gets more and more excited the longer she stays on the subject. "Plus he's so great! And his name is Blaze! Blaze Mafia! How great is that?! And he has a kid named Blaze Mafia! There are two Blaze Mafias in this world, Andi!"

"You are an odd person." I narrow my eyes at her playfully and shut my locker to turn to her. "Do you need anything from your locker?"

"No, I'm just gonna carry everything today. I'm too lazy to worry about switching it all out."

I blink at her and look between her face and her locker literally less than six inches apart. Still, I just roll my eyes and start walking towards my English class. I hear R turn and jog to catch up beside me.

"That was rude," she pouts.

I roll my eyes once again and turn to her. I grab her cheeks between my fingers and mutter in my baby voice, "I'm sorry wittle Arabella."

She slaps my hands away and glares at me while I laugh. She sticks her tongue out and I stick mine back at her. By now we are in front of my class so I say goodbye to R and she continues down the halls to Bio. I step inside my English class and sit down at my seat in the front corner desk up against the right wall of the classroom.

I pull out my copy of the book we started last week from my backpack. It's  _The Outsiders_  by S.E. Hilton. It's by far one of my favorite books, and we aren't even halfway through with it. Whenever we read books in class, which is constantly, I usually read the first chapter or two and then decide if it interests me enough to keep reading. If not, I just look up summaries on the internet. I mean, I love English and reading, but only about stuff that interests me.

I set the paperback on my desk and reach to pull out a highlighter and pen to make notes in the book about what we discuss in class. Those notes, especially when I don't actually read the book, are what save me for the in class writings when we have to pull examples from the text.

Just as I open to my marked page to refresh where I left off, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look around to find none other than smile-ass Ashton.

"What the fuck, what are you doing here?" I question somewhat harshly.

"I'm in this class," he states excitedly. His stupid smirk never leaving his face. Seriously is this guy ever not happy?

"What? No you're not." I look him up and down like a disease that came fresh off a boat from Africa and sauntered its way into my English class.

He chuckles at me, either not noticing or choosing to ignore my blatantly obvious looks. "Yes I am. I have been the whole semester. Although I'll admit I never noticed you."

I narrow my eyes at him. There's no way he has been in this class this entire semester. The first time I saw his face is when I was swinging a bat at it. I hadn't recognized him and he said he hadn't recognized me.

"Well, gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special," I mutter. I mean, I'm not offended that he didn't know I was in this class, because I didn't know he was either so I can't really hold that against him. But okay seriously. At least in this class, I definitely participate and speak in group discussions. They are my favorite part. I can see if I was that girl in the back of the classroom who keeps her head down not paying attention and scribbling doodles in her binder all period. In some classes I definitely am that girl, but not this one.

"Don't feel bad. I just don't really pay attention to who says what in this class. I just kinda listen and enjoy the banter," he laughs.

"Okay..." I drawl, officially over this conversation. "Well, nice talking to you, but class is starting soon so... shoo!" I flick my hand out towards the back of the classroom as his clue to leave, and turn back to the last page of the chapter we had been assigned to read up to. This is my least favorite chapter, and I honestly got so upset when I read it that I chucked my book across the warehouse and just about scared R to death with my random outburst. I don't turn back to see if he in fact left to go back to his seat, but I assume so since he hadn't done anything else to make himself known.

Just in time for me to finish rereading the last page, the teacher, Mr. Berkins, comes through the door. He's a younger guy who just started teaching here this year, but everyone already loves him. He is just a really funny but chill teacher which makes discussions much more fun because he just jokes and hangs out but still manage to be the best English teacher, as far as actual learning goes, that I've ever had, and most of the school seems to agree with me.

I hear the bell ring, signaling the start of class, and Mr. Berkins takes role before walking to the center of the classroom, sitting up on a stool behind his wooden podium.

"Okay, so. What did I assign for you guys to read up to in  _The Outsiders_?" he begins.

Varying answers are mumbled from the class before one kid shouts that we are supposed to have finished chapter four.

"Oh yeah. So... what did everyone think of what went down with the Socs and Johnny?" he asks with a smirk, waiting for our reactions.

Suddenly the whole class starts shouting in an uproar all their opinions on the last chapter. Everyone seems just as upset about the situation as I am, while Mr. Berkins just sits there with a grin since I'm sure he was expecting this sort of reaction. Finally, after allowing enough time for everyone to be able to get their initial frustrations out, he silences the students and we all calm down back into our seats.

"So I'm guessing you want to share some of your opinions?" he asks with the same smirk. He does that a lot, actually. I think he finds enjoyment in toying with us in situations like this.

A hand shoots up from the seat behind me. It belongs to one of my closer school friends, Candice.

"Okay, Can't-Dance, what are your thoughts about chapter four?" Mr. Berkins begins.

Candice gives him a face for his little nickname, just like every time, and Mr. Berkins laughs with an accomplished smile before Candice continues on, "Okay, so, Ponyboy and Johnny were truly minding their own business. They were being nice guys and walking the girls home. Then that night Bob thinks it's a great idea to attack them in the park and try to drown Ponyboy. Johnny was just protecting his friend when he stabbed Bob. He really had it coming. But that makes Johnny a killer and he hates that. It's not fair that Johnny now has that huge load to carry on his shoulders just because the Socs couldn't handle the competition." She finishes with a huff and collapses back into her seat.

"So do you think Bob deserved what happened? He deserved to die?"

"I can't say anyone necessarily deserves to die, but he brought it on himself. If Johnny hadn't stabbed him, they would have killed Ponyboy!"

"I'll agree with you on that," he says, nodding his head forward and standing to walk around the front of the classroom. "Has anyone picked up on what Hinton does with the eyes? The way they are describes specifically for each major character?"

"They reflect their personalities," I speak up casually. "Like Darry and Dally. Ponyboy views both of them as intimidating and disconcerting. Their eyes are both described like ice. A cold blue for a cold soul, almost. Their eyes are narrow and shows how they are very closed off. Then Johnny has wide, black eyes. Showing him to be completely vulnerable and warm. He's gentle and caring, which Ponyboy admires more than anything else."

Mr. Berkins nods in approval and looks back up to the rest of the class. "Andi hit the nail on the head. Hinton puts a big emphasis on their eyes. Each of our own eyes are completely unique. I want to hear who believes that our eyes are in fact a reflection of who we are. So, your next project will be to pair up and essentially study each other's eyes. Take in the colors and shapes and in a paper, analyze the meaning and essence it implies about the person. Is it accurate? I'm interested to see what you come up with."

"Do we get to choose our partners?" Candice asks, tapping my shoulder excitedly.

"Well, I'm actually going to have you each choose someone not in this class. I don't want, however, to choose your best friend or something. Choose someone you don't know that well. Maybe someone you want to know better. Someone you're curious about, even. Don't do someone you already know because your opinions will be biased to fit who you see them as. I want you to try to figure out someone who is a little more of a mystery and figure out for yourself a certain amount of who they are," he explains. The class groans. He laughs. Nothing new.

He gives out a rubric explaining the project to everyone.

"You will have a month before your completed paper is due. I know it seems like a bit long for a simple paper, but I really want you guys to get into it. Your paper will also have to be a minimum of three pages, but that should be nothing to you guys by now."

After a little more discussion on the story and Mr. Berkins assigning us to read up to chapter eight by Friday, class was dismissed. Ugh! I can't believe it's only Monday.

I gather my things and start to head for the door. It was already lunch so I begin making my way to meet R by the cafeteria. We don't actually eat there, but I hate packing lunch so I buy my food.

When I make it to the entrance, R is already standing next to the doors, talking animatedly with Luke. She has her flirty smile on and I can tell he isn't complaining about it, even from down the hall.

Before today, I have never seen any of those guys at this school in the years I've been here. Then they move in and bam! They're everywhere! Like cockroaches.

Okay, they aren't that bad and are pretty cool guys, but still. Then again, I'm not sure cool is the best description for them. Yesterday Mikey brought up a stuffed My Little Pony to the warehouse.

I walk up to the hormone twins and wait for them to finish their riveting conversation about what I can only assume would be something about chipmunks given the face Luke was making with his cheeks all puffed out. R seems to find it hilarious but I know it had nothing to do with Luke's actual joke or whatever it is.

"So you too gonna suck face or can we get food?" I ask once they calm themselves a tad.

R's face goes bright red and slaps my arm while Luke just looks down at his feet and shuffles uncomfortably. However, I notice him smirking at the ground and hiding his blush.

"Shut up and let's go buy snacks," R snaps and begins to drag me through the cafeteria doors. Before we can get very far though, Luke calls to us and jogs ahead to stand next to R again.

"Wait do you two wanna sit with me and the guys?"

I open my mouth to tell him thanks, but no, when R jumps in and destroys my get away option.

"Sure!"

Luke smiles like he was thoroughly ecstatic she said yes. Dumb blonde.

"Great! We sit at the table over--"

Before he can finish, it's my turn to step in. I may now be obligated to sit with them, but that doesn't mean I have to sit in their spot.

"No. If we're sitting with you, you come to our spot. I refuse to sit in this room and smell the various fumes our peers produce while I eat my food. We sit out on the side of the west field by the big tree. You wanna join us, you're welcome to. Now, if that's settled, I smell a burrito calling my name." I quickly grab R's hand before she can say anything else and trudge her over to the lunch line.

"Don't be rude!" she scolds me.

"Yeah, yeah. You know I don't like too much people."

"Yeah well you know neither do I. But the guys are chill and I like them," she says and perks up.

"You just wanna shag Luke and we both know it," I joke and laugh when she smacks my shoulder again.

"Lies."

"Okay... Whatever you say..." I tease her. I walk past her as the line moves forward and tell the kitchen lady I want a bean and cheese burrito. Most of our school's food sucked, but the burritos were bomb. They officially make up a good third of my diet, by this point. I hand her my money and step back with R by my side.

We walk across campus in comfortable silence until we get to the same tree we've always sat at since we met. I'm happy to see it's still vacant and the boys haven't infested it yet.

As much as I'm taking a liking to the boys, it has been mainly me and R for so long, and I like it that way. It's relaxing and easy and comfortable. Bringing in new people to our secluded little world just shakes up the way I'm very used to life.

R and I get comfortable under the shade and she rests her head on my lap while I lean my back against the trunk. I start playing with her hair in my hand that wasn't feeding me the burrito.

"You know the guys are pretty chill. I think it'll be fun having them around," R finally says. I know she'll want to talk to me about my attitude towards the guys but I'm tired and don't want to deal with it right now. She has other plans.

"Yeah. It'll be great," I agree, even though I'm not even trying to make her believe I mean that, knowing she won't.

"Come on. Give them a chance. If I'm the one in this relationship trying to be open to new people then we have some serious problems." I laugh along with her at that, knowing it's true.

"Yeah, I know. It's just having them around will be something I'll just get used to."

"I know you will," she coos, squishing my face as she looks up at me. I laugh at swat her away.

Right on cue, four pairs of converse clad feet appear in my line of vision. I look up to the boys, squinting and shielding my eyes from the sun peeking through the leaves.

"Speak of the devil. Or... zzzs..." R fades out with a confused expression like she can't figure out what she just said.

"Speak of the devils?" Calum laughs.

"Shut up, Clum!" R spits. He puts his hands up but continues laughing.

"S'okay if we join you?" Mike asks.

"Come on down!" R says, dramatically waving her arms, motioning them to sit down by us.

"You're so lame," I chuckle.

She gives me her usual glare. "Don't be rude."

"What class do you guys have next?" Luke asks.

"Uhh... R and I have History," I answer.

"Oh. Who do you guys have?"

"Miss Gavich."

"Ugh! Lucky I have Foster!" Luke complains.

"Hey I heard he's good! I had him for homeroom last year and he was hilarious!"

"Yeah he's fine, and he's a cool guy. He just gives us a lot of busy work and you guys always do more fun stuff. We usually just take notes and usually they aren't even on the test."

I smile at him. "Sorry! Can't help you, there. Gavich is great!"

He narrows his eyes and flips me off. I laugh at his pouting and look over to the rest of the guys.

"I have that class next, too!" Mike says.

This is beginning to frustrate me. Am I stupid? How do I not notice these people I evidently spend hours a day with?

"Is it just me not knowing you guys? Am I a horrible person because I had no idea who you people were? Do any of you know me?" I ask them all, honestly curious.

"I had seen your face but never knew your name," Calum shrugs.

"Same," Luke agrees, nodding his head.

"I don't remember ever noticing you. You have a face I would remember. But then again, I don't really try to pay attention to people." Mike shrugs.

"I didn't see you. But don't feel bad. I'm not school's biggest fan," he giggles and grabs the apple Calum had pulled from his backpack, taking a big bite out of the center.

"Hey!" Calum screeches. Ashton just smiles wide, his eyes and nose scrunching up, trying to look as cute as can be. Regardless of the fact that he looks like a mongoose caught in a demolition site, Calum seems to buy into it and sits back, letting the frizz head have his apple. I would've chucked it at his head, but hey! Whatever floats his boat.

"You guys have plans for today?" R asks, trying to start up a new conversation.

"Not really. Figured we'd practice at the warehouse for a bit. We were even thinking about recording a new cover for YouTube," Luke answers.

"What song?" I ask, perking up in my seat.

"Why? Excited to hear more?" Michael taunts. He's so obnoxious. Maybe that's why we click?

"You know  _All Time Low_?" he asks, paying no attention to Mikey.

I scoff and roll my eyes. "Yes, I know  _All Time Low_."

"Well it's their song. Backseat Serenade."

"Seriously?!" I screech, sitting up and knocking R's head off my lap. "I absolutely love that song!"

"Love you, too, boo," R grumbles and swipes dirt from her hair.

"Sorry, babe," I laugh lightly.

"Mhmm..." she rolls her eyes and resumes her position on my lap.

"So, ATL?" Calum continues. "You're a fan?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely!"

The boys all laugh at my excitement. Sorry! They may as well figure out sooner rather than later that music and art are two sure fire ways to get me jumping up and down in excitement, wanting to spend hours and hours discussing it.

"Well..." he drawls, glancing around at the rest of the boys before looking back to me. "We could always go now... if you're so eager?" He has hopeful eyes. When I look at the rest of the group, including R staring up at me with her puppy dog look, have similar expressions. I groan and lean my head back against the tree, closing my eyes.

"Fine."

"Yes!" they all cheer and hop up from the ground with an added spring in their step. Michael walks over and holds a hand out for me to grab. He pulls me up onto my feet and suddenly throws me over his shoulder.

"What the fuck?! Michael! Put me the fuck down right now!" I screech and pound against his back. "You idiot! My feet better be on the ground by the count of 5 or they will end up in your ass!"

"She's feisty," Michael laughs. I can just hear the smirk on his face.

"Shut up, jackass."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the acoustic version of this song on here because I thought it fit a little better and more people would enjoy it but I recommend checking out the original

_I'm holding onto a fairytale. We're moving forward but we're not there yet._

_[«Homesick» A Day to Remember](https://youtu.be/oWe1wBWImbU) _

\-----

"Hey mom! I'm home!" I call and close the front door behind me.

"In the kitchen!" my mom's voice called back to me.

I walk down through the corridor before turning left to the large open kitchen. Our house is nothing ornate, but it is nice and spacious. It's a typical suburban home, I suppose. It is just the three of us so we don't need too much. Still, it's two stories and has four bedrooms. We use the extra one as a bonus room type of thing. But nowadays, it is mainly where my little brother plays video games and hangs out when his friends come over. He is only eleven years old so games and bugs are still his favorite toys.

If it's not the bonus room, he's in the treehouse in the backyard. That is my favorite part of this house: the backyard. I suppose it is nothing too special, either. It has a back porch and a fire pit. But the part I love the most are the trees that go around the perimeter. At the farthest edge of the yard, there is a big patch of them dense enough that if you go further into it, you can't see much of the house. That's my favorite place.

There is a swing on one of the furthest trees. My dad put it in when I was younger so I would stop begging to go to the park every single day just to play on the swings. I've always loved the swings. They're so free and calming. When he put it in, I spent hours a day back there. I'd bring out a picnic blanket of some sort and maybe a few of my toys and hang out beside my swing, playing on it on and off throughout the day. I'd climb the tree and hide up there. Eventually my dad added in a little perch. It was basically just a wood floor added between the center of the branches. I kept pillows and blankets up there, too. For years that tree became my second home and hideaway. It was perfect when I was a little older and my parents started fighting. I would spend hours out there whenever things got too tense in the house. Sometimes I'd bring my brother or tell him to go to his treehouse. Luckily we both had seemed to find a home in the trees so my dad made him a treehouse of his own. His had walls and windows and all that, though. Even after my dad moved out and our parents divorced, they held that feeling of safety. Especially my swing.

"Where's Hayden?" I ask my mom, leaning over the kitchen counter to look at what she's making. It looks like chicken and dumplings, which sounds perfect with this weather.

"I think he's in the play room," she answers, wiping her face with the back of her arm so she doesn't get the flour from the dumplings everywhere.

"Okay! I'm staying for dinner then I promised R I'd meet her at ten."

"Okay! That's fine. Just be careful," she says, like she's always reminding me. She knows about the warehouse but she doesn't know about all the drinking or boys who have been there over the years. I never correct her on the information, of course. No need for her to know now.

"When will dinner be ready?"

"Hmm... about fifteen minutes."

I nod and turn to head upstairs to see what my brother is up to. Nowadays I spend most of my time at the warehouse, and stay between my mom and dad's houses the days I don't, so I don't see him that much. We're still close. Whenever we are around other people, they always get annoyed at the way we had our own little language. It was mainly just inside jokes and shit like that but we could talk for hours between the two of us and everyone else would be oblivious. I think it probably started because during the divorce, we kinda clung to each other. It all worked out in the end, I suppose. Although my brother isn't as close to my dad as I am, now. He was still pretty young when he moved out, and the years leading up to it he wasn't the happiest person to be around, so they never really formed that relationship.

Me and my dad, though, were like best friends for the first few years of my life. He worked from home so he was always around and we did everything together. After things got a little better through the years, we have been able to get some of that relationship back. Not all, but enough to keep me coming around. It's still hard to be around him when he's in one of his moods, but it's still better than having him bitch about mom all the time and expect me to side with him. He still does that sometimes but not as much.

I walk up to the door and lightly knock on it before just going in. Hayden is sitting on the bean bag chair in the middle of the room with an Xbox controller in his hands. I slump back in the couch behind him, reaching forward real quick to ruffle his light brown hair. He is still young and has a bit of a baby face left, but he is the type of kid you could tell would be a stud when he grew up. Plus, he has the prettiest green eyes. He got those from my dad. My mom has brown eyes but I remember learning that brown eyes are dominant or something so their kids would always have brown eyes. I asked about it then since Hayden has green eyes, and she tried to explain some weird biology gene stuff about her dad having green eyes but I didn't understand then and I don't understand it now. Science has never really been my strength and I am currently getting by in chemistry with a C-.

"What's up, Hayd?"

"It's almost night time and I'm still really far away from my shelter and I only have my iron pickaxe with me and it's almost out of strength. The monsters will be out soon and I'm doomed," he rambles, not taking his eyes off the screen. This game is his current obsession. It's called  _Minecraft_  and you basically just dig holes to find supplies to build things and kill monsters.

"Why don't you just dig under and hide until day?" I'll admit, it is one of the more fun games he's been addicted to. It's better than his  _Call of Duty_  stuff. That thing is just frustrating. No matter how many times he tries to explain it to me, I just end up pressing random buttons until something explodes.

"Because then I'll have to just sit there and wait all night and ain't nobody got time for that!"

I laugh at him. "Did you really just say that?"

"Yes, I did. It's a thing nowadays. You should keep up with the young crowd, grandma," he snickers.

I reach over and grab a fistful of his hair, pulling it back so he is looking at me upside down with a stupid grin on his face. I give him my 'really?' look and he just laughs until I let him go back to his game.

"I'm seventeen, not seventy."

"Tomato, potato." He shrugs.

"That's not even right, you dufus!" I laugh.

"Fine. Whatever floats your goat."

I smile and laugh even harder at him. "You're an idiot."

"And you're an Andi. Next on, identify the species," he says in a low mocking voice like an announcer on  _Animal Planet_.

"I need a sister around here for your boy moments."

"Your sister is called R and she likes me better than she likes you." He smirks. It's  _somewhat_  true...  _sometimes_. R spends so much time over here and hanging out with my family in general that her and Hayden are nearly as close as we are. But it is true that she thinks he is adorable and chooses his side whenever I ask for help in whatever argument we happen to be in. It's obnoxious, but surprise surprise, Hayd likes it.

"Yeah, why don't you call her up and I'll go take a nap," I say, giving his back a tap with my boot. He shoots around to give me his annoyed look, but I just smirk in response.

"Yeah. You do that. At least she knows how to play  _Call of Duty_."

I grumble and knock my head back. "Let it go, I'm sure you have plenty of male friends who kick your ass. Where is Jax, today, anyways? Doesn't he usually stay late on Wednesdays when his mom is at work?"

Jax is Hayden's best friend and has been since they were in diapers. Jax's mom works as a nurse at the hospital now, and took up longer hours every Wednesday since they downgraded the staff there. She doesn't mind, she just needs a place for Jax, so we took him in.

"He had a doctor's appointment so mom just took him to meet his mom at the hospital after school."

"Aww. Oh well! Looks like it's just you and me!" I coo in my best baby voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mutters, but I don't have to see his smirk to know it is there.

"Hey, I have to pick up some paints and dad's house is on the way. I can take you by there and dad can give you a ride to school in the morning," I say casually in hopes he'll take me up on this offer. But as soon as I see his shoulders slump I know that chance is almost nonexistent.

"I don't like being there when you're not there."

"I know but, come on. Dad misses you. You haven't spent the night there in like two months. Your room is getting dusty. And dad is a lot better now." I know Hayden is nervous to be around my dad by himself, since when he was growing up my dad was in the middle of his darker days. It is true that he is better, though. It will never be like it was before, but it's good enough that I feel okay to spend some time around him as long as I'm careful.

"I'll stay over whenever you feel like staying over  _with_  me."

I groan. "Fine. I'll set something up. Maybe we can do it this weekend and we can all go ice skating down at the rink?"

"Okay." His tone is anything but excited, but I know he'll be fine when we are actually there. He has a good time with dad when I'm there because he knows he has me if something goes wrong or my dad gets upset. I just wish he wasn't so scarred and could have a real relationship with him. I wish a lot for the both of us, really. But some people are just meant to have better parents than others. Dad is a good guy and loves us a lot, just isn't good at being a parent. I end up taking care of him rather than the other way around.

"Guys! Dinner!" mom calls from downstairs.

"Come on, dude. Food awaits."

He pauses his game quickly and starts sprinting downstairs at the mention that he will be fed.

"Don't hurt yourself!" I call out to him, but soon hear a thud and my brother's soft groaning. "Fall down the stairs?!" I ask.

"Mmhmm..." I hear him respond. I just laugh, knowing it isn't the first time, and it won't be the last.


	7. Chapter 7

_The nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day._

_[«Do I Wanna Know?» Arctic Monkeys](https://youtu.be/Qf1JvdomH6s) _

\-----

"I'm booooooored," I say and drag it out.

I hear an "ow" from Calum and not bothering to sit up, I look to the boy laying on the floor, clutching his nose with a creased forehead.

"Did you hit your face with a drumstick again?" I whine.

"Maybe..."

"Idiot stop tossing it above your head and that won't happen."

"You don't know that."

I cock an eyebrow and push myself up on my elbow on the couch to look across the room at him.

"How do you suppose it would happen, otherwise?" The incredulity is clear in my voice.

"Like this!" Michael swoops in with another drumstick and drops it above Calum's head, hitting his face once again. He covers his face in his hands and groans in pain.

"I told you!" His voice is muffled behind his palms.

"You're both idiots."

"Hey!" they both yell in unison.

"What about me? I'm not an idiot!" Luke whines from the floor beside me, resting his back against the couch. I smile and lean down to grab his face between my hands, smooshing his cheeks together.

"No, you're no idiot, Lucas."

"Hey! He is too an idiot!" Ashton cries out from behind his drum kit, not playing but just hanging out by the instrument.

"Yeah, if we're idiots he is definitely an idiot!" Mikey says.

"Shut up!" Luke yells.

Suddenly all three boys are rushing to pounce on Luke and tackling him down with battle cries.

"Hey! Knock it off!" I yell and they ignore. Huffing, I reach to the bottle I placed beside the couch and raise it to face them, pulling the trigger and spraying water over them all.

"What the fuck?!" Mikey screams as they all jump away.

"Did you just shoot them with a spray bottle? They aren't cats, you know." I hear R's voice say and snap to look at her standing in front of the open window, just having gotten here. "Why do you even have that?"

I raise my hands in defense. "Hey, we are more or less living with four teenage boys now. I gotta have something to make it stop or I will go crazy. It's the spray bottle or their heads."

R furrows her brow but moves along in unloading her bag from her shoulder and turning back around to close the window before she picks it back up and walks over to us.

"Guess what I got?" she asks with excited eyes, chewing on her lip to hide a devious smile. She picks up my legs before sitting down and placing them back down on top of her, ignoring the boys meticulously fixing their hardly damp hair on the ground.

"What did you get?"

Her smile widens. She puts her bag on top of my legs between us and pulls out a bottle of Bacardi rum.

"What the fuck? Where did you get that?" I ask.

"Miss Wright's desk," she says, radiating excitement.

"Why are you so excited about it?" I chuckle. "I'm pretty sure we still have some rum in the box."

"Because! The Bacardi commercial has  _Do I Wanna Know_ by  _Arctic Monkeys_  in it!"

"You stole a bottle of rum off your Spanish teacher--who isn't actually supposed to have it on campus either--because you liked the song in the commercial?"

"Yes!" she squeals, nodding her head.

I narrow my eyes at her in disbelief. "You're an idiot, too." I squirt her in the face with my spray bottle.

She scrunches her face and simply waiting for me to stop spraying her. I set it down after a few squirts, because I'm that nice.

"Anyway," she says and wipes the water off her face. "I figure we may as well have some fun with it. And I mean, its decent rum. Better than anything we have."

"What do you suggest?"

Her devilish smile returns to face. "Drunk Jenga."

My face lights up. She knows this is one of my all-time favorite games to play.

"What's Drunk Jenga?" Luke whispers from the ground. I snap my head towards him and he flinches in shock.

"You've never played?" He shakes his head, probably confused why it was such a big deal. "You have not lived. It is the funniest game ever!"

"How do you play?" Ashton asks.

"So you take a normal Jenga game and on the blocks you write different challenges. They are like 'take one' which means take one shot, 'social' where everyone has to drink, 'two truths and a lie' where loser or losers have to finish their cup, or it can be a dare of some sort and if you chicken out you have to finish your cup. There are more but you get the idea. Then when someone tips over the tower, that person has to blindly choose five random tiles and do whatever they say. For that one there is no chickening out, by the way. You guys get it?" I ask.

"Sounds like a good time," Michael agrees nodding.

"So is everyone in?" I ask, hopeful. It's the most fun with more people. Usually it's just me and R, so this was a treat.

They all agree and I run to get the game. I take off the top crate of the stack we keep some of our things, like clothes and shit, and drag out the bottom one we keep some games and stuff to keep us busy. I take the Jenga box and put the crate back.

"R, grab the cups."

She comes back with a stack of seven red plastic cups. I take the bottle of rum and order the boys to stack the blocks while I pour everyone's cup to half full.

"Everyone ready?" I ask and everyone nods. "Okay, so we start counter-clockwise and if you get a 'reverse order' block it switches to clockwise."

"Got it!" Calum says, seeming rather excited to play the game. Hells yeah--it's great!

"I'll go first."

I reach out and slowly drag an easy block on the end near the top. I flip it over and read it out loud; "Take one." I put the block on the floor beside me and tilt back a gulp of rum, happy I started out with an easy one. It's always annoying to start out with a social or something where you have to chug your glass you haven't even taken a sip of yet.

"Me next," R says on my right. She follows my actions and reads her block. "Lap." She smirks and flicks her devious eyes towards me. "Andi, pick a victim for me."

I laugh and quickly decide on who would be the recipient of R's dare.

"Luke."

She bites her lip before looking across the circle to Luke who is sitting still, slightly confused and slightly scared.

"Fine with me." She gets up from her spot and tediously struts to stand in front of Luke before crouching down in front of his face. "Ever had a lap dance before?" she teases. Luke's eyes go wide. He shakes his head slowly and even though her back is turned to me, I know her smirk just doubled in size.

"Grab a chair," she says to an already sweaty Luke. He quickly jumps to his feet and finds a nearby chair, the other boys laughing at him, along with myself. He sits down in the chair, anxiously waiting for R to approach him from where she stands quite a great distance away from him. She shrugs her leather jacket off of her shoulders and throws it to her side, slowly walking over to the other side of the room. I can't help but let out a giggle at Luke as he wiggles around in the chair.

"Andi," she says to me, looking over her shoulder. "Put on  _Do I Wanna Know_ for me." She says with a smirk. I roll my eyes before searching through my phone to find it and putting it on the speaker system we had set up. She thanked me while she faced Luke before walking behind Luke and ran her hands down his chest, slightly digging her nails into his skin as she rakes her hands back up his chest. The other three boys were watching her just as intensely as Luke was and I roll my eyes at their idiocy. She looks up between the three boys and shakes her head with a smirk before walking back to face Luke. She runs her fingers through his hair, making him lean his head back, slowly returning to his normal position. The bit just before the chorus started and she slowly gets onto his lap, wrapping her legs around the back of the chair, slowly grinding against Luke and rolling her head back. I heard him let out a low moan, he probably didn't want anyone to hear, and I can't help but let out another giggle. The chorus started and she gets off of his lap, turning around so her bum is facing Luke. She slowly shakes her hips all the way down as she crouches down to the floor, shaking them on the way up again. Turning around again to face Luke, she rests her hands on his knees, sticking her bum out for the three already very focused boys to stare at. The song was coming to an end and I know Luke was frustrated with that, because he forcefully pulls R closer to him, making her stumble a little and bring her hands to his shoulders to stay standing. She uses his shoulders to help her back to her feet, shaking her head at him and swatting his hands away as he reached out to touch her thigh. She leans back down, leaning in towards his jaw, making Luke close his eyes slowly. The song ended and she walks back to her spot towards me, as if nothing happened, and checks her phone. I then allow myself to burst into laughter while Luke stays in the chair looking rather disheveled after R's little show. All the boys were staring at her with wide eyes and she finally looks up from her phone to see them.

"What?" she asks innocently. Luke clears his throat and gets up from the chair shyly, keeping his hands clasped in front of him. He joins us in the circle again, cheeks a bright red and nonchalantly crosses his legs.

"Got a little problem there, Luke?" I say easily, trying my best not to laugh. "'Cause you know my spray bottle has cold water in it." His cheeks flair up even more, making him look like a ripe tomato. He keeps his head but lets his eyes flicker up between R and I.

"Shut up," he mumbles and averts his eyes back to the floor, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of that later," R says, smirking and winking at the sexually frustrated blonde boy. "The game's just begun, after all."

Luke's eyes go wide and look everywhere but our eyes. I keep my laughter to myself and everyone continues with the conversation.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Michael asks with wide eyes.

"I'm actually a stripper, it's one of my many jobs."

"It's true," I say, playing along with her lie.

"I enjoyed it," Luke chimes in, making R and myself giggle.

"Wait, are you really a stripper?" Calum asks innocently.

"No, honey," she says with a giggle. He just puts his hands up in defense and we carry on with the game. Every once in a while, I see R smiling at Luke, catching Luke wink at her and watch as her cheeks turn red.

"Okay! Next?!" I laugh.

"Uh-oh," Calum chuckles to himself as he reaches forward for a tile. "Lose the shirt." He shrugs and reaches to pull his shirt over his head.

"My turn!" Luke yells. He's probably hoping for another trick from R. "Twerk." He purses his lips. "I have no fucking clue how to twerk!" he cries out in laughter. "I'm a skinny white boy with no ass!"

"Either do it or drink, Blondie," I laugh. He huffs and rolls his eyes, but picks up his cup and chugs the rest of it before pouring himself another.

"Here we go," Ashton mutters and pulls a block. "Nose goes." As fast as we can, everyone reaches to touch their finger to their nose.

"Calum!" I point him and laugh. "You were last. Drink!"

"Ugh," he groans but still downs his drink and gets another.

"Hehe, my turn," Michael laughs evilly and grabs a block. "French to the right." He smiles brightly, antagonizing me.

"Sure, why not?" I shrug, laughing. I turn to face him a little more and so does he.

"Bet you're not even a good kisser," he teases.

I raise a brow at him, still playfully. "Really now? I'll just have to prove you wrong."

We both smirk at each other, almost seeing it as a competition now.

Well, bring it on.

In one bold movement, I reach behind his neck and forcefully bring his mouth to mine. Not wasting any time, I force my tongue through his lips. I slip in closer to him, moving up on his lap to straddle him with knees on either side. His hands immediately claw into my waist, enough to hurt but not enough to make him let go, and liking the contrast to his lips. I fist my hands into the sides of his head, pulling and rocking my body up against him. I feel him moan into my mouth and a sense of victory fills me. I take his bottom lip between my teeth, slowly pulling it and dragging it out before letting it go again. He grunts breathlessly in frustration and I feel him slightly grinding against me as I bring my lips back to his. I smirk and decide to help him out, now rolling against him. We both can't help but moan into each other at the new friction. I fist the front of his t-shirt and force him flat against me, lapping his tongue with mine a few times more before breaking apart from him. I smirk down at his flushed face and disheveled--well at least more than usual--hair, before climbing off of him and resuming my seat.

I wipe my thumb around my lips and look up at the stunned and red faces of the three boys. R is just smirking.

"What? Looking for your turn?" I chuckle.

The other guys cough and clear their throats, awkwardly laughing to themselves.

It's a moment of silence before anyone speaks.

"So girls..." Calum begins. "Would you mind me adding you to my list of booty calls?" he laughs.

"Oh! Ugh! God!" I groan.

I reach behind me and grab my spray bottle, drenching them like it's the fucking Holy Water they so desperately need.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I asked my friend R is based on to write the lap dance part so she googled 'how to give a lap dance' and I laughed for five years xD just had to share.


	8. Chapter 8

_We all have our horrors and our demons to fight. But how can I win when I'm paralyzed?_

_[«Don't Go» Bring Me the Horizon](https://youtu.be/_NFzDSudw10) _

\-----

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey."

I'm trying to work on my world painting, but Mikey is apparently bored so every two seconds he feels the need to poke me in the back to pester me. I'm just about to lose my shit.

"Michael Clifford. You touch me one more time and I will make sure your mouth will be glued shut with the super glue I keep hidden in case of emergencies," I say as calmly as I can manage. He's quiet for a few moments and I'm hoping he finally got the message that I was done with his fuckery.

"Hey."

"Okay! I'm done with you!" I all but scream. I spin around with my spray can in hand to face him. I press down and start spraying his chest with ocean-blue paint, watching him with a bored expression as he stares down at his increasingly colorful chest.

"What the fuck was that for?!" he yells, looking up from his ruined t-shirt.

"Shut your face."

"What do you guys wanna do?" Calum calls from the couch, ignoring me and Michael's whole encounter.

"I want to paint so..." I say.

"Ugh! You're always painting!" Ashton groans. I step down from the stool I'm standing on against the wall and walk over to him. I calmly lift the can and spray a blue stripe across his chest.

"That's right."

He doesn't say anything back, knowing it won't get him anywhere anyways. He just glares at my smirking face.

"But seriously. We're bored. Can we do something?" Luke asks.

"What did you have in mind?" R asks in a bored tone, picking at her nails.

"Do you guys have any video games?" Calum asks, getting excited.

"We don't have a TV," I point out.

"Ugh!" Calum groans, flopping his head back against the couch. "What do you guys do for entertainment anyways?"

"You won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"Paint."

"You're right, I don't like that answer."

"Other than paint and drinking games, what do you do?" Luke interjects.

I shrug. "Listen to music. Read."

"You read? For  _fun_?" Michael asks, sounding appalled and confused.

"Yes, dip-shit. For fun. Try it some time."

"No thank you," he laughs.

" _Anything_  else?!" Calum asks.

"We could go to my house. My little brother has a bunch of games and shit there if you're all dying of boredom." I roll my eyes.

"Yes!" they all shout, adding in a few 'pleases' and some begging.

"Can we?!" Mike asks.

"Yeah, let's go. I can work on it later," I grumble. I don't care as long as they shut up.

"Are we taking your car?" Luke asks as I grab my backpack from the floor.

"Sure. I guess. You guys will have to sit in the back. There are only two seat belts." I shrug.

"What kind of car do you drive?" Mike asks. I cap the top of the blue spray can.

I laugh. "It's an old white cargo van my dad used to use for business. Nothing glamorous, believe me."

"So wait is there nothing in the back?" Calum asks, suddenly a little wary it seems.

"Nope. When it was my dad and he would drive me and my brother around, my brother would sit in the front since he's younger and I would sit on the wheel shell inside and use a bungee to strap myself in with the holes in the metal walls. Literally like a storage box," I laugh. "He and my brother also thought it was hilarious when my dad would stomp on the breaks and I would fall."

"Sounds like a great time," Michael laughs. "This should be fun."

"Well..." I shrug, smiling. I open the window and lead the way out the fire escape.

"Why don't you put a mattress in here or something? There's enough room for it," Mike comments as we pile into the van.

"I don't know. If you have an extra, feel free to stick it in so you don't get bruised every time I drive you guys," I chuckle and turn the key in the ignition.

"I may just have to do that," Mikey grumbles to himself quietly and Calum shuts the sliding door behind them.

"How old is you brother anyway?" Ashton asks, holding on the best he can to the sides of the van as we drive through town.

"He's eleven and he is the cutest thing ever!" R squeals from the passenger seat.

"Him and R have an interesting relationship," I laugh.

"What's his name?" Luke asks.

"Hayden."

"He sounds like a cool kid. What kind of stuff is he into?" Calum asks.

"Video games. Sports. Bugs. Video games. Normal boy stuff, I suppose. I'm sure he will love having you guys to play with. While I can kick ass at certain things, battle games are my kryptonite. I usually end up exploding before I can kill anyone," I chuckle.

"Weak," R teases.

"Whatever." I smile and reach over to shove her shoulder. She laughs with me and reaches over to turn up the radio. We spend the rest of the ride listening to  _Pierce the Veil_  until pulling up in front of my house.

"Nice place," Ashton comments as we walk up the driveway.

"Thanks." I shrug.

I unlock the door with my own key and let us all in.

"I'm home!" I call out. "Anyone here?!"

"Chicken butt!" Hayd's voice cries from upstairs.

"That's for 'what's up?' dufus!"

"Chicken poo!"

"That's 'what's new?'!" I laugh.

"Tomato, potato!"

"You're ridiculous!" I smile up the stairs at my brother's voice. "Come down here! People are here to interact with your bizarre butt!"

"Too much work!"

"Get your ass down here!" I laugh at the idiot.

"Language!" he yells, but I hear his footsteps padding down the hallway. He appears at the top of the stairs in a shirt that reads 'I don't argue I just explain why I'm right', gym shorts, and bed head.

"Come down here!"

"What's the fun in that?" He smirks, overlooking us from upstairs.

I cock an eyebrow at him.

He ignores me.

"Hi! I'm Hayden! The more attractive, smarter, more talented, and all-around better sibling," he introduces himself and extends his hand over the railing, shaking it up and down as if he was shaking someone's hand. The group all chorus different mumbled greetings, completing the awkward and unique introduction.

"Mind if we join you for whatever you're doing?" I ask, already walking towards the stairs.

"Whatever floats your goat," he laughs and runs back into the playroom. The little idiot.

"He's playful," Calum laughs, walking behind me upstairs.

"That's one word," I laugh along.

We walk into the room and see Hayden already sat in the beanbag chair placed in front of the TV. He holds the Xbox control in his hand and is pressing various buttons, maneuvering his Mario character on the screen.

"You are the least normal boy I have ever encountered. And that's saying a lot considering who I brought with me," I chuckle as I plop down on the couch behind him, resuming our usual positions for when we hang out in here together. The boys all whine complaints about my comment but I don't acknowledge them as they find spots around the room.

R sits down next to Hayd in her own beanbag on the floor and whispers something into his ear. Suddenly they both start laughing uncontrollably and I narrow my eyes at them.

"What are you two up to now?"

They both shrug innocently and turn back to each other. We all watch Hayden play through the next three levels of the game before I reach over his shoulder and steal the controller from his hands.

"Hey!" he whines, turning to me.

"Don't be rude. I'd like you to actually meet the boys."

"Fine," he grumbles and turns to face us in a circle.

"I'm Luke." He reaches his hand out to shake my brother's. Hayden eyes his hand before cautiously taking it between his thumb and index finger, moving it up and down before releasing it again.

Luke pulls his hand back and flips it back and forth in front of him before looking back up to Hayden in question.

"I don't know where you've been." Hayd shrugs with a content smile, not seeing any problem. Luke seems to silently accept the weird behavior and rests his hands back in his lap.

"I'm Michael," Mike says from beside me, giving a wave of his hand instead of going to shake it.

"Cool hair, dude. You and Andi can be like fire and ice with her blue stuff."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mikey chuckles, being a good sport. He winks at me briefly before looking away again. I laugh and roll my eyes.

"I'm Ashton." He reaches out and tries for a knuckle bump. Hayden repeats his actions with Luke, shaking it up and down between two fingers with a wary expression. Ashton laughs when he takes his hand back.

"I'm Calum." Hayd eyes him up and down in question. He seems unsure of the boy for whatever reason makes sense in his weird head.

"I don't think so," he says, sounding very final about the decision or whatever he was going for. "You're Brandon."

"Uh, what?" Calum laughs. I'd like to help him but I have no idea what the kid was saying either so...

"You're name is Brandon. You don't look like a Calum. You look like a Brandon. You're too Asian for Calum."

"I'm not Asian!" Calum laughs. Well that answers that, at least.

"Doesn't matter. You look Asian. You're Brandon." Hayden shrugs and seems to move on from the whole thing.

Calum leans over to me. "You're right. He is a weird kid," he laughs into my ear, tickling it.

"You have no idea," I laugh back at him.

Hayden and the rest of the group start talking amongst themselves when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

_From: Dad_ _i  
_ _Hey do you and your brother want to stay over tonight?_

"Hey, Hayd," I interrupt their conversation. "Dad wants us to stay at his place tonight. Are you up for it?"

He rolls his eyes and groans. "Do we have to?"

"We talked about this," I try to scold, although it is always hard for me to force him into stuff with dad. I can't blame him.

"I know, but can't we do it another night?" he begs.

I sigh. "Fine. But one weekend this month we are spending the night with him. Deal?"

"Deal!" He nods quickly, relieved he had convinced me out of it.

"Good. Now continue your conversations about whatever your pretty little minds came up with." I shoo them with my hand. They all slowly turn back to the discussion. I don't miss Michael's lingering gaze, however, his eyes looking concerned.

_From: Andi  
_ _Hayden has a project due tomorrow and I have to help him because he's hopeless on his own :( How about we both come over_ _another_ _weekend_ _soon_ _?_

_From: Dad_ _i  
_ _Okay. Sounds good. I just feel like I never see you kids anymore._

_From: Andi  
_ _I know :( Promise we will spend next weekend together!_

_From: Da_ _di  
_ _Okay. See you then. I love you._

_From: Andi  
_ _Love you, too ;*_

I lock my phone and set it down on the couch next to me.

"You okay?" Mikey asks me quietly while the rest of the crew sets up to compete in  _Call of Duty_.

"Yeah. I'm good," I answer light-heartedly. I'm not totally lying, actually. I'm used to this stuff. I've learned to block it out, for the most part. There are still some times where it gets hard, but I don't let the little stuff like this get to me. It'd only make everything worse.

"Okay. Just checking." He smiles warmly at me.

I excuse myself from the room, feeling lucky that everyone was so focused on the game now all set up. I make my way out to the back yard, mindlessly walking through the trees until I arrive at my hideaway.

I swing back and forth slowly, using my feet to push me slowly. Even if I don't let the little things get to me, it's still just good to escape by myself for a bit.

I tilt my head up, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the minimal sun peeping through the trees. It's a surprisingly warm day for this time of year. It's still chilly, but there is a foreign kind of warmth in the air.

"I knew you'd be here." I look up from my peaceful reverie to find R walking over to me. She climbs up on my perch and brings a pillow into her lap. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed some peace and quiet."

"I know what that means, Andi," she sighs. She knows what is going through my head when I need a sudden escape.

"Then you should also know that I am really fine," I assure.

"I know that you tell me you're fine, maybe even believe that you're fine, but you're not. Not totally, anyways."

"It's easier to just convince myself I'm fine."

"But it makes things worse if you never accept the problems. Denying your hurt ends up hurting you so much more in the end."

I sigh and lean back again, resuming my freeing reverie. "But then I have to deal with feelings, and I've gotten too good at being numb to give it up now."


	9. Chapter 9

_Nightmares no longer wait for sleep._

_[«One Hundred Sleepless Nights» Pierce the Veil](https://youtu.be/ax9b_ttnjVU) _

\-----

_Just go. Don't look back. Find somewhere to hide._

_I keep repeating the words to myself as I feel my way around the cabin-like building. My hands are shaking and my breath refuses to settle. My head spins and I am afraid I will pass out any second and they will get me. I fight against my heart pounding in my chest as I stumble through the hallway and make my way into a bedroom. I don't have to look around for a place to hide, because this part I know all too well. I mindlessly walk to the closet in the corner on the same wall as the door. I keep the tears down and try to quiet my labored breathing. Everything is hazy in my mind and I can't seem to grasp reality._

_Terror runs through me and I want to break down in sobs and tears. I hug my knees to my chest and wait for what happens next._

_Cold runs through me and I feel like I'm going to throw up as I see the dark shadow float through the doorway and hover in the middle of the small bedroom, between the two sets of wooden bunk beds. He seems to look around the room a bit. I make myself as small as can be and pray he doesn't see me. My whole body is tense and trembling. I have never experienced this much terror running through my veins. I want to cry and run and collapse all in one moment but all I can do is tremble in fear, awaiting the end_

_My heart stops beating in my chest as I see him turn straight at me. His cold soul boring into my mind and making me want to pull my hair out to escape his grasp. He has no need for a face for his blank form is enough to strike fear through my body. I don't need to see his eyes to know he is staring straight at me. We both seem to freeze, watching the other closely--his gaze intimidating and dominate while mine is terror-stricken and submissive as I cower under him._

_I let the sobs free as he suddenly moves towards me. I whimper loudly and prepare for the miserable end, wanting it all to be over and to disappear from this hell._

_I shut my eyes tight and feel his foggy figure reach out for me. This is the end. This is where I am consumed by the darkness. This is where I join the others. This is when I give up--_

I wake with a jolt, gasping and feeling like I've been slammed into the mattress. My limbs expand out and shake almost violently. My head feels like its being attacked from the inside by a millions needles taunting with pain but never carrying through the agony. Everything is spinning and my heart is racing in my chest. A fearful shock races through my spine and I bolt up in my bed. 

I can vaguely hear noises and voices around me, but they are muffled and far away. Tears streak down my cheeks and my lip trembles. 

What is happening? Why does this happen? Where am I? 

I fist the blankets beneath me as a violent sob rocks through my throat. My vision is clouded by fear and tears. I reach up and feel my forehead dripping with sweat. My fingers glisten in the light in front me as they come into focus. 

Suddenly the noises become louder and louder and I frantically look around the room when figures begin forming before my eyes. Everything is blurry and I can't tell if they are still here or taken by the darkness. A large figure appears right in front of my face. I scream and frantically back myself away from them. 

"No! Please! No!" I screech. I pull the blanket up in front of my face and squeeze my eyes shut. Another sob rakes through me and I wait for the chill that comes before the shadow. 

I feel the blanket being ripped away from my grasp. I scream out and cry and beg while flailing my arms in front of me. 

"Andi! Andi! Stop! It's me!" 

I cry harder and try to block out the voice as I hit the form again and again. Suddenly my wrists are being held tightly and restrained from moving before shaking me violently. 

"Andi! God dammit! Open your eyes!" a new voice cries. My eyes grow even hotter as I realize they have gotten another one. 

"No. Please don't take me," I sob quietly now. 

"Andi, no one is taking you. Open your eyes." This voice is calm and soothing and nothing like the raspy voice of shadows. My lip still quivering, I slowly blink my eyes open, light blinding me momentarily. The image slowly fragments into a clear picture. 

Five bodies stand around me. I recognize R first, kneeling on the opposite end of the mattress. Her face is red and wet from tears. 

I flick my eyes away from her to find a panicked looking Luke behind her, his hand on her back in comforting. 

Calum is knelt beside me on the ground looking worried and Ashton stands behind him with a similar expression. 

Michael is perched right in front of me, holding my wrists up between us. 

My heartbeat seems to steady as I take in the fact that I am safe and not being terrorized by the shadows anymore. I sob in relief and slump my shoulders forward. 

"You're okay. You're okay," Calum soothes, rubbing circles on my back gently. 

"I'm safe?" I whisper. 

"You're safe, Andi. Just breathe," Michael says. 

I follow his instructions and try to take a deep breath, instantly relieving some of the anxiety from my tight chest. My eyes fall closed as a final tear drips down my cheek. 

Everyone is silent while they wait for me to calm down a bit more before speaking. 

"What happened?" Michael asks. 

"Was it the nightmare?" R asks and crawls over next to me, taking me in her arms. 

I nod into her chest and she hugs me tighter. 

"It's all over. You're awake and we're all still here. We didn't go anywhere," she whispers to me. We rock back and forth and my breathing finally returns to normal. A slow breath escapes my lips. 

"Sorry everybody. It was just a dream," I mutter opening my eyes to them. 

"It's okay. What was the dream about?" Mikey asks and Calum smacks him upside the head. 

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Calum says. 

"No." I shake my head. "Its fine. Its just this recurring nightmare I get from time to time. Waking up from it ranges though. Sometimes its worse than others. Sorry I woke you." 

"Don't apologize. If you don't mind me asking, what happens in the dream?" Luke asks politely. 

I take a deep breath. "I'm in this cabin thing and there are shadows that one by one capture everyone I love. Who is with me ranges from friends to family and stuff. Its different every time. But the dark creatures take over them and they become one of them. The dream always ends the same way; I'm hiding in a closet and everyone else has already been captured and right before a shadows gets me I wake up." 

The boys all look confused but concerned. 

"How long have you been having this dream?" Calum asks, coming to sit on the edge of the mattress next to Mikey. 

"A few years, I guess. It doesn't happen too often and I haven't had it in a while." 

"Have you seen someone about it?" Luke asks shyly, physically flinching back from just suggesting it. 

I nod. "Yeah. After maybe a year of having them and my brother getting worried every time he woke me up from it. She gave me all this dream analysis shit and it made enough sense but I didn't want to keep going back to her long enough to solve it. Just to figure it out." 

"What did she say about it?" Calum asks. 

I take in a deep breath. "In short; the shadows represent all the stresses in my life, and all my loved ones are the good things in my life. The stress takes over all the good things, leaving me alone and overtaken with all the shitty crap." 

They all stay quiet for a moment. 

"What's stressing you out so much?" Michael asks with the softest voice I've heard come from any of these boys. 

I open my mouth but then look down at my lap. 

"I think I'm gonna get some sleep now, 'kay guys? I'm really tired. Sorry for waking you guys up." I give them a tight smile. They all seem to get that I'm done talking for the night, and reluctantly back off the bed. 

"Of course. Sleep tight," Michael says, giving me a small smile as they all settle back into the various bed forms they have around the room. 

I take a deep breath and relax back into the bed, closing my eyes. I bring the blanket over my shoulders. The bed dips next to me and I roll over to cuddle into R's chest, not needing to see to know it was her. She wraps her arms around me and we settle in. 

"You okay?" she whispers in my ear. 

"I'm fine," I sigh, calming myself down to go to sleep. 

"I know better than that, but we'll worry about it later," she speaks softly. I nod against her and I can feel both of our breathing even out as we slip into unconscious relief.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited in detail because I'm tired and don't wanna do chem homework XP sound familiar? XD write what you know, I suppose XDXD anyways... LOVE YOU!!! and check out the song it's inspirational XD xxx

_ _

_You say don't act like a child. But what if it's a father I need?_

_[«Scars» Allison Iraheta](https://youtu.be/2zR050YFKX8) _

\-----

"Hey, dad!" I call through the apartment.

"In here!"

I walk through the hallway into the living room. My dad is sitting on the couch in front of the TV.

"Oh, come here. You have to see this!" he calls me over. I plop down next to him and cuddle into his side. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.

"What're we watchin'?"

"It's this series all about the American spies in the Civil War. They had this whole ring of people using codes and ciphers behind enemy lines. It's really cool," he laughs and I roll my eyes. My dad is from America... and a geek... but in the best way.

"Sounds cool." I rest my head on his shoulder and get comfy. We sit there and spend the next three hours binge watching the series. Once it's around seven I stand up off the couch.

"Where you off to? We still have three more episodes of the season."

"I'm gonna go start on dinner and get some of my homework done. Any requests?"

He looks up and hums. "Hmm... Food," he says definitively. I scoff and roll my eyes at him.

"You're a lot of help, dad. I'm making lemon sautéed chicken. You want capers on it?" I ask, making up my mind for the both of us.

"Yes please." He smiles.

I laugh and go to the kitchen through the swinging door. After turning on my music and plugging in my headphones, I open the freezer and pull out two chicken breasts. One thing about my dad's house--if it isn't chocolate, frozen, or  _mine_ , it goes rotten.

Or grits. He lives off grits.

I set them down on a paper towel to defrost and grab the single pan that resides in this place. Yes, there is  _literally_  one pot and one pan. But he doesn't really need more I suppose. Although the one who cooks his meals--me--wouldn't mind a few more options. I splatter some coconut oil across the surface and go to grab the other ingredients.

Once I have everything organized on the counter and checked that the chicken has thawed just enough, I turn on the stove and listen as the meat sizzles in the oil. I let it sit for a minute before flipping it and letting it sit a few minutes more. Once both sides are browned enough that they will keep the moisture in, I place them on a baking sheet and stick them in the oven. I set the timer and lower the heat on the stove as I start on the sauce. I add in the flour and lemon juice first. I look over to my ingredients and realize I forgot to grab the white grape juice and vinegar. I grumble and walk over to the cabinets. Technically the recipe calls for white wine, but there's no way in hell I'd let wine--or any other type of alcohol, for that matter--in this house.

I know my dad still uses other things to get his mind off his depression, but he already got to have his fun with alcohol in his twenties, and already went through AA to fix his fun. I don't know what he's using right now, and I honestly don't want to. He doesn't do it around me and he sure as hell doesn't do it around Hayden. He keeps it secret from us and I let him. Whatever it is seems to be less than alcohol, or at least less addicting. I'll keep it that way by forbidding alcohol within his walls. I pay for a quarter of his rent and that's one of the rules I set up from the very beginning. I think it's supposed to be the other way around with who is keeping who from booze--the dad or the teenage daughter.

I grab the bottles and stir them into the mix. I move it around a bit as it simmers and evaporates the excess liquid, leaving only the flavorful stuff. I pour in some capers as well as some of the juice from the can and wait until it too burns off the extra. I hear the timer go off and pull the pan from the oven, checking its temperature before turning off the heat. I put the breasts in the sauce for a minute to soak before putting them on plates and pouring the liquid from the pan over them both. I place them in the microwave so they don't get cold while I roast a handful of pine nuts in the leftover grease. I sprinkle them on top. I heat up some leftover pasta from the fridge and put some on both plates.

"Dad! Dinner's ready!" I call. I place them on the small half-circle kitchen table against the wall. My dad walks in as he is pulling up his sweats on his waist.

"This looks delicious," he all but moans and licks his lips humorously. He's an odd character, if nothing else, and I laugh along.

He sits down and I hand him a fork before going to get a soda for me and a bubbled water for him.

"So, how's the job search going?" I ask as I twist some pasta on my fork.

"Well, you see I found a few online and from my old contacts but the thing is they are all looking for younger guys. I can't do the job anymore. It's a young man's game. You know I was the best in the business? Top paid guy in the field, literally! And now I can't get a single job," he explains. It's much like last week when I asked him. The same excuses to keep living off unemployment.

"Well, if you would be interested, I rang Billy up the other day and he said he may have a position for you." Billy is one of his best friends. Well, one of the two. When I was little he was like an uncle to me and he was the best man-- or again, one of the two--at my parent's wedding. After my dad stopped working he was too embarrassed or something to hang out with him anymore. But luckily I still have his number and he's still running his same business. Bless my lucky stars they met through work and have the same jobs.

My dad huffs with a half-smile. I know what his response will be anyways, and don't get my hopes up for otherwise.

"I'm sure he does. I guess I could give him a call. But... I mean I don't know if I could really work for Billy. We've worked  _together_  before, and we nearly tore each other's heads off then. I don't know how well it would work if we have to deal with superiority added in the mix," he laughs. Again, I didn't expect any less so I just shrug.

"Let me know how it goes, anyways," I say, slipping in there that I still expect him to make the call regardless if he will actually take it. But we both know he won't.

He nods in response and keeps eating. He asks me about school and we talk about music. I mention the boys staying with us at the warehouse and he laughs and says he feels bad we have to put up with four teenage boys. Most dads would be upset or at least wary of a group of guys more or less moving in with his daughter and her friend, but it doesn't even seem to faze him. Nor does that fact faze me, either. Although there are times when I will purposefully leave in something that could be consider scandalous to see if it gets a reaction out of him. It's kind of fun when he sees me and he gets all wide eyed and says something like how I look beautiful, but he doesn't want anyone else to look at me.

Of course as soon as I leave I just go home and change. I'm not the daughter who goes all haywire to get her dad's attention. I simply like to mess with him enough to see his parent side peek through.

Once we are both finished I clear the table and tell my dad that since I made dinner, he has to do the dishes. He gathers the pan and plates in the sink and I walk off to my room with my backpack.

Hayden and I both have our own rooms, but mine is a little more lived-in looking. That's one of the reasons I help pay the rent. He could maybe afford a studio or something on his own, but I hated when he lived in his first place after moving out and only had one bedroom. I remember desperately trying to make a little place of my own there. I would gather pillows and blankets and make a little bed behind the dining table next to the bookshelves that took up most of the wall. I would clear off a space on the shelf and put my things there. I'd draw pictures and tape them up above my little spot. I did just about everything trying to make a place for myself in his new world, or at least his new home.

I'm the one that found this place when he said he was thinking about moving out of his other one. My dad can cover three quarters of the rent and I pick up the rest. I don't have a job but saving up lunch money my mom gives me and I don't spend adds up. I mean I'll get a burrito every once in a while, but I mainly skip lunch since I don't really like eating it in the first place. It comes out to usually twenty-five dollars a week and one hundred in the month. That covers about a third of my share. Then I'll pick up extra chores around the house for a few bucks here and there. Or often enough I'll do some admittedly shady task for cash. Although I have been able to sell a painting of my own a few times. I'll get twenty, maybe thirty bucks for 'em. My mom doesn't actually know that I pay my dad's rent, so I never go to her for whenever I'm lacking. One way or another though, I'm always able to come up with my part by the end of the month.

Not bothering to even turn on the light, I crash on my bed and sling my backpack on the floor. I seriously don't feel like doing homework tonight. I'll just get the answers from Candice or someone tomorrow. I only really have chemistry so it's not that much.

Instead, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and roll over onto my stomach. It's only about nine.

 _From: Andi_    
 _Hey babe <3_

I love my best friend because unless she's in the shower, she always responds almost instantly. That includes the bathroom. I've been meaning to make a folder with her toilet selfies.

_From: R_   
_FRIEND!!! I miss you!!!_

_From: Andi_   
_I saw you like three hours ago XD_

_From: R_   
_So you don't miss me?!_

_From: Andi_   
_I miss you... is it weird that we miss each other after a few hours? I feel like it's a problem XD_

_From: R_   
_I feel like it should be but NO!!! I love you so I get to miss you XDXD_

_From: Andi_   
_Love you too XD what are you doing right now???_

_From: R_   
_I'm hanging out with Mike and Luke at the warehouse_

_From: Andi_   
_Where are the other nitwits???_

_From: R_   
_Ash had to drive his brother somewhere and Calum's on a date or something._

_From: Andi_   
_A date?! XD it's a Thursday night. Who is she? Do we know her?_

_From: R_   
_I think her name is Darcy or something... pretty sure she's in the year below us_

_From: Andi_   
_Well you know we are gonna give him shit for this one XD_

_From: R_   
_Well duh XD It doesn't seem too serious though_

_From: Andi_   
_Doesn't mean we can't mess with him XD_

_From: R_   
_True dat XD_

_From: Andi_   
_Are you being gangster again?_

_From: R_   
_A'ight XD_

_From: Andi_   
_That doesn't even... whatever never mind XD_

_From: R_   
_Don't judge XD_

_From: Andi_   
_Little bit judging XD_

_From: R_   
_Whatever XD_

_From: Andi_   
_So what are the boys doing? XD_

_From: R_   
_Attacking each other with your squirt bottle XD_

_From: Andi_   
_WTF TELL THEM HANDS OFF MY WEAPON_

_From: R_   
_Mikey says no XD_

_From: Andi_   
_I'll chop his nuts off in his sleep_

_From: R_   
_He's done XD_

_From: Andi_   
_I love my power XD_

_From: R_   
_So how is your dad's?_

_From: Andi_   
_The usual, ya know. Nothing special. But I'm tired as fuck now and it's not even ten XD_

_From: R_   
_Did you nap today? XD_

_From: Andi_   
_No XD that's probably it XD I can't survive without my daily nap_

It's true. I can't.

_From: R_   
_Then go to sleep bub XD_

_From: Andi_   
_Go to sleep before ten hmm? Could be a new record XD_

_From: R_   
_Go for it. You can do it. I believe in you XD_

_From: Andi_   
_Okay, fine XD I love you xxx I'll pick you up at the warehouse in the morning :)_

_From: R_   
_Otay XD LOVE YOU TIMES NINETY SEVEN THOUSAND TRILLION_

_From: Andi_   
_Love you more you goof XD Goodnight xxxx_

I chuckle and lock my phone. I barely have enough energy to pull off my jeans and crawl under the covers before I'm out like a light.

 


	11. Chapter 11

_I've always said I could never fall._

_[«God Only Knows» MKTO](https://youtu.be/FLpgiBeqyb0) _

\-----

"Hello room filled with people who have somehow forced their way into my life," I greet and follow R through the window.

"Well... hello to you, too," Luke chuckles.

"You know you love us." Calum smirks.

"You have no proof," I grumble and walk over to plop down on the mattress.

"Long day?" Michael asks. I would think his concern was genuine if he didn't look so smug.

I sit to lean back on the palms of my hands. "I had to wait for R to get out of detention so that added an extra hour to my day, and somehow I got roped into helping Mrs. Rylen clean her figurine collection."

"She is the only teacher I have ever  _truly_  hated as a teacher  _and_  a human being. I mean, usually they are good at at least one, right?" Calum adds. That's true. She speaks all holy and righteous but says God will smite you if you go against teachings. She's like the classic nun you see hitting children with rulers in the old movies but smile as they walk away and go about their business.

"She's a nut," I moan. "I barely passed her class with a C- last term. I am so glad I won't have her next year." Everyone groans in agreement and the room falls silent for a moment.

"Hey, Andi. Do you know who you are gonna do your project for Berkins on?" Ashton asks.

I want to roll my eyes, but manage to restrain myself. I've just recently decided to give him another chance. Sure, we got off on the wrong foot. But the problem was that from then on, I just couldn't shake the fake pleaser vibe from him; like he was just trying to be overly friendly to me instead of being himself to make me like him. Those people I really just want to punch in the face.

But since we will be stuck together and everyone else seems to get along with him, I figure I'll suck it up and hope he warms up to me enough to be whatever dip-wad he really is like his friends have.

"Actually," I begin. "Michael! Would you want to help me with my English project?"

I've been thinking about who to do the assignment on. I was thinking R, but Mr. Berkins said it should be someone we don't really know too well. I figured I may as well do Mikey. We get along and are actually kind of friends, but I still don't really know him. I don't even know what color eyes he has, so I have everything to learn with him. Plus, he isn't a person I would mind getting to know. None of the boys really are. As for everyone else... well I would just like to keep them in the dark. That narrows my options and Michael and I are comfortable enough so it won't be awkward.

He grimaces. "English project?"

I roll my eyes. "All you would have to do is let me ask you some questions while I stare at you."

"Well that just sounds creepy," Luke mutters.

"Shut it," I snap and squirt my spray bottle between his eyes.

"I thought we hid that!" he cries and wipes his face with his sleeve.

"I put it back in hopes she would do something like that," Calum laughs.

"How did you know I wouldn't do it to you?"

"Because the rest of them think it's hidden and will not be idiots while I know it's not so I know not to piss you off."

I nod. "Not bad, Clum. I'm impressed."

He smiles, very proud of himself, and looks around at the other boys. They flip him off and we move on.

"So will you do it?" I ask Michael again.

"I just have to sit there?"

"Yep."

He narrows his eyes at me and speaks slowly, "Will there be snacks?"

I slump and roll my eyes. "Yes, there will be snacks."

He perks up. "Okay," he agrees. "When do you want to do it?"

"Sooner the better. It's already been two weeks since he assigned it and he gave us a month. Usually, I would wing it and do it the night before, but I actually like the idea of this one so I figure I may as well take advantage of it and do it on time."

"Okay. Luke are we doing anything?" he calls over to him.

Luke slaps his hands down on his thighs. "Why am I the only one who can organize our lives?!"

Calum throws the drumstick he was playing with at Luke.

"Tell the girl what she wants to know."

He groans. "No. We don't have anything until School Formal."

"Formal?" I ask, almost appalled by the thought. "Why the fuck are you guys going to Formal?"

I have yet to actually attend a school dance. For obvious reasons.

You have to dress nice and smell nice and talk to people and dance and get all sweaty and gross and listen to shitty music and  _wear a dress_! Not to mention it costs bank!

"You guys are going to Formal?! Andi! Can we go?!" R excitedly shouts at me.

"Why?" I groan. "I don't want to go to some fancy dance!"

"We're only going because we're playing," Mikey comments.

"Don't they usually just have a DJ?" I ask.

"Yeah, but they thought maybe it would be good to have a local band do a few songs," he explains. "In other words: Ashton and Luke talked to Principle Lyran and convinced her it would bring culture to our school."

"She actually went for that? She's usually a bitch."

"A stuck-up bitch who likes to make our school look better than it actually is. So... if you phrase having a local garage band play a set at a dance as cultural exposure and showcasing student talents, she can't say no."

"Doing it pro bono doesn't hurt either," Ashton chuckles.

"So you guys get a gig, but you have to go to a dance... and not get paid? Is that worth it?" I ask.

"We need the gig," Luke explains. "We are getting some attention on YouTube, but it definitely helps to have some face-to-face publicity, ya know?"

"Yeah. I just don't like Formal..." I grumble.

"Andi! We have to go! We never go to any dances!" R begs.

"Yeah, if we gotta go, you girls are  _so_  coming along," Mikey chuckles. I squirt my spray bottle.

"No."

"Oh, yes," Calum challenges.

"Nope!"

"Yep!" Luke.

"Not a chance!"

"Forecast says yes!" Ashton.

"Never trust weathermen!"

"Says the walking rainstorm!" Mikey.

I furrow my brows. "What?" He points to my squirt bottle. I squirt him.

"Just for that, you're going. End of story," he mutters and wipes his face dry.

"Yay!" R shrieks and rushes to tackle me in a hug.

"No," I groan. "Have mercy!"

"Umm... No!" Michael quips.

"Jackass," I mutter.

"We have to go shopping!" R screams in my ear.

"Well, when is this thing?" I dramatically stick out my arm at Michael. "Doctor! How much time do I have?!"

He rolls his eyes. "It's like a month away. Don't worry, you'll live."

"What do you know?" I pout. "Anyways... when can you help me with my project?"

"You choose." He shrugs.

"Wanna start tomorrow?" I ask.

"Sure. How long do you think it will take? And are we doing it here?"

"We don't have to do it all tomorrow. We'll probably just do an hour or two, for now. Just 'cause I have to write it up and then get more information, ya know? Make use of my luxury of time," I chuckle. "Kind of nice not having ten hours before it's due."

"Yeah, I can  _only_  imagine," Mikey laughs. "Okay so here or...?"

"I guess we can do it at my place. I should probably go home, anyways. And that way, we don't have to deal with all these people," I laugh.

"Good point," he agrees.

"Hey!" Luke cries. I squirt my bottle.

"Any other questions?" I ask.

"Uh... what time?"

"It's Saturday so I won't be awake before eleven, and if you do try to come before then, I  _will_  set you on fire."

"Okay," he says and shrugs off my threat, probably expecting nothing less. "I'll be there at noon. And I expect snacks!"

"I promise, there will be snacks," I chuckle.

"Then I'm in!" He smiles wide at me like a child in a candy store. I laugh at him. The weirdo.

"Hey, what did you get detention for, anyways?" Luke asks R.

She puts on a smug smirk."I spray painted Mrs. Rylen's figurine collection."

My eyes go wide and I snap towards her. "You did that?! I spent an hour cleaning porcelain forest animals with a q-tip while  _you_  goofed off in detention for painting them in the first place?!"

"I didn't know you were gonna clean them!" she laughs hysterically.

"I just stopped by to turn in a missing assignment and she asked me if I could help! I had already told her I was waiting for you so she knew I had time! Actually, that's probably the reason she had me do it!" I shout, getting more and more angry with every word.

"Well now you know not to do that," she laughs.

I lunge towards her and tackle her to the ground. She shrieks and starts fighting back.

"I hate you so much!" I laugh and punch her arm.

"You know you love me!" she screams through giggles and turns me over on my back.

"You little shit!" I grab her shoulders and try to flip us back.

"Ha! I win!" she laughs above me.

"Hardly!" I scream and kick my leg from under her, successfully flipping us over. "Oh! Look at that!"

"I will destroy you!" she threatens.

"Fight me!" I yell.

"What do you think we're doing?!" she laughs.

"Well, I'm winning! What are you doing?!"

"Yelling at you!" she laughs.

"I hope you have a good time with that!" I laugh back.

"Oh that's it!" she mutters and tries to loosen my grip. She manages to bend my elbow enough and I topple to the side.

"That's cheating!" I laugh and try to get up. She beats me to it and sits on my stomach.

"How is that cheating?!" she screams through giggles.

"Unfair joint... bending!" I laugh.

"You're so stupid!" she cries.

"No!" I shout and start slapping her arm.

"Oh, don't even!" She starts slapping back and we both can't control our laughter. I bring her down beside me and we roll around, cracking up.

"I wonder if this will ever not be weird?" I hear Calum wonder aloud.

"Shut it, Clum!" R laughs.

"You're just jealous!" I shout at them.

"We're awesome!" R yells and holds up her fist for me to bump.

"Damn straight!" I pound my fist against her's.

"Whatever..." Calum chuckles and starts messing around on his phone.

"Get him?" I whisper to R.

"Get him," she replies.

"Three... Two... One...  _Go_!" I scream and we attack the not-so-Asian boy with flying fists and laughter while he cries for mercy.

 


	12. Chapter 12

_You're not the same. You can see it in your eyes. I can see it on your face. You're hoping for a taste._

_[«Dead Walker Texas Ranger» Sleeping With Sirens](https://youtu.be/FDDIjmve7f0) _

\-----

_Michael's POV_

I knock on the door.

Ring the doorbell.

Knock.

Ring.

Repeat.

No answer.

I check my phone to see if I am too early or something, but it says it's one in the afternoon. We had agreed on noon so...

I decide to just send her a text.

_From: Mikey  
_ _i'm outside. where are you?_

I start kicking around a rock I find on her porch while I wait for her to respond. I am about to just call her when I hear someone moving from behind the door. When it opens, Andi is standing in the doorway in a black tank top, pajama shorts, two different socks, and a dark grey jumper three times her size hanging unzipped. Her hair is in a messy ball on top of her head and her face is just as disgruntled.

"What did I say about waking me up?!" she barks. I actually take a step back from the doorway.

"Uh, babe, it's one. Like... in the afternoon..." I mumble, a little scared of her response.

She scoffs and reaches to grab my phone from my back pocket. How she knew it would be there without even looking, I don't even think to ask. When the time lights up on the screen, she glares at it until moving her harsh gaze to me. I raise my hands in defense.

"Fine. Let's go," she grumbles and steps aside to let me through. "But don't expect me to get all dolled up for you."

"You really don't like being woken up, do you?" I chuckle.

"I don't like waking up--end of story," she mutters and starts leading me up the stairs.

"You have to wake up," I laugh. "Otherwise you're just dead."

She doesn't give me a response and just keeps walking straight ahead, never looking back at me. I give her back a curious stare but let it slide. We pass the the room we hung out in last time, stopping only once we reach the end of the hallway. The white door is plain except for a black letter A enclosed in an outlined circle. I've seen that symbol before, somewhere. It has some sort of meaning, but I don't remember what. Although it is pretty cool her mom would let her spray paint her door. My mom would flip.

She still doesn't say a word as she opens the door an shows me through. I look around her room, curiously walking around and studying the pictures and artwork littering the walls and shelves. The left wall is completely covered in posters. Most are of bands, most of which I recognize or have at least heard the name in passing. There are at least five of  _Sleeping With Sirens_. Then there are some like  _Pierce the Veil_ ,  _All Time Low_ , _Bring Me The Horizon_ , _Of Mice & Men_, _Daughtry_ ,  _A Day To Remember_ , _Mayday Parade_ , and  _Black Veil Brides_. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that that's the kind of stuff she's into. I've even heard her listening to some of these while she paints.

The rest of the walls are painted an extremely dark purple. Her bed is pressed up against the left corner. There's no headboard--just a box spring under a mattress. Her sheets are black and her comforter lays unmade, in a ball. I can see a pattern peaking through. It seems to be some sort of black-lined design, but I can't tell what the image is of. Above the head of the bed, spray painted in white this time, is another letter A. This one is made up of two bold strips bordering another, creating a blank space between them.

"What's up with the A's? Just like marking your territory?" I tease. She walks over to the center of the room to stand beside me.

"Well the one on the door is the symbol for anarchy. This one is the logo for  _Anthem Made_. It's this clothing line, brand, business, that kind of stuff type of thing. The lead singer of  _Sleeping With Sirens_  started it--Kellin Quinn."

"I've noticed you're a big fan of them," I laugh.

She shrugs. "Yeah. He comes from a broken home. That's kind of what caught my attention for them, specifically. I could relate to a lot of his lyrics. Then I just kept getting more and more into them. They are kind of the rejects for their genre group since their music is more melodic, but I like it. Plus, Kellin's voice is seriously one of a kind. My brother hates them--and all my music, really--but is convinced he's a girl. But besides, I like  _Anthem Made_  for more than just Kellin. The meaning behind the name is like... well we all have our own anthem that we carry with us. It's more than someone's favorite song. It's kind of what you identify with. And... we are all made up of some form of our own anthem."

"I like it," I softly speak. This girl never ceases to amaze me. It's like everything she does is never what it seems. I was thinking she just liked the A's because of her name or whatever. I should have known by now that it's always something more.

I move over to keep looking around the room. A black dresser stands against the wall right next to her bed. The ground in front of it is littered with various wires, including one of a black desk lamp and a laptop. The wall behind it displays a few posters, as well. Only these aren't of any bands... or people, for that matter. They seem to be large print-outs of different paintings that I don't recognize, but that's not surprising.

"What are these?" I ask.

"Well that one," she says and points to the one I was already looking at. "That's a painting by Claude Monet. It's called  _Sunrise_."

"Is there a reason you like it enough to hang it on your wall?"

"I like anything Monet, really. If you stuck me in a room filled with paintings and didn't give me any information on any of them... I would walk straight to the Monets. Or Van Goghs. Or Renoirs. Any impressionists, really," she sighs. She lost me as soon as she mentioned Monet, but I continue to listen, anyways. It's kind of fun watching her talk about this stuff. She's seems so mesmerized as we stare at the picture I know she has surely spent hours studying, already. "As for Sunrise... Besides being breathtaking, when Monet created it, it was rejected over and over again. Everyone said he needed to go back and finish it. It is mostly shadows and rough outlines of the harbor, but he did that on purpose. Notice only one sailboat and a small row boat with a few men are really prevalent. The focus is really on the sunset; the colors highlighting the sky between the clouds and casting down onto the water below. He knew what he wanted in this piece, and didn't change because others didn't see that. And in the end... I mean it turned out gorgeous and iconic for impressionism."

"It's pretty," I coo. She scoffs but laughs.

"One day, I'll take you to an art museum and show you the difference between impressionism and your butt's permanent impression on the couch cushions," she chuckles.

"Uh... no... that's really okay," I laugh and continue exploring.

I turn around to face the opposite wall. On either sides of the door, there are rows of string lights with pictures hanging from them. I step closer and see that most of them are of Andi and R. There are some of her and Hayden. Some are with people I don't know and some I recognize from school. One seems to be her as a baby. She is standing in a pair of worn-leather boots ten times her size and a diaper. She is in front of a pasture of some sort. Her hair is cut in a bob, framing her chubby cheeks adorably. I look closer and sure enough, her eyes are the same gold brown. The light is shining down on her and added an extra sparkle around the pupil. They are as mesmerizing as always.

The next few pictures are of her and people who look like they would be her family. There is even a family portrait. It looks to be at least twenty people posing in someone's backyard. There's a picture of a younger version of her mom in a wedding dress. Actually, her mother doesn't look as old as she should be, given this picture and her children's ages. Good to have an idea of what Andi may look like when she's older. And well... not bad.

The man beside her looks quite a few years older than her. That may because of her deceptively young appearance, but I can't believe she would be the same age as the man with the beginnings of grey speckles peaking through his dark brown hair.

"She was thirty-five," Andi says, popping up from behind me and taking me by surprise. "He was forty-five. They were kind of friends for two years. Dated for three months. Found out my mom was pregnant with me. They were in love and figured they should try marriage. Had the wedding about two months later. Had their first fight on their honeymoon. I think it was from then on that they started just working just to be married. Not that they didn't have good times or love each other, but their marriage was more of a struggle than either of them really expected. Five or so years later, everything seemed to change almost instantly. Things fell apart all at once, then slowly until we were all at least a little miserable."

She continues staring at the picture with sad eyes and a smile. I think that pretty much sums up her life; always sad eyes and a smile.

"Who's this kid?" I ask, moving on to another picture. I recognize one as Hayden, but I have no idea who the blonde-haired boy beside him is.

"That's Jax," she says. "He's Hayden's best friend. A weird kid, but really fun. I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough. We can never seem to get rid of him for very long," she jokes.

"Do you ever bring them to the warehouse?" I ask.

"No. Hayd kinda knows about it, but he's never been there."

"Are you ever gonna take him?"

She thinks about it for a second. "I don't know... I guess maybe when he's older. It's not the most kid friendly place."

I chuckle. "Hide the booze and you'll be golden."

"Not to mention R's stash of condoms behind the fridge," she laughs.

"Hmm... Good to know." She slaps my chest. "Kidding!"

"Yeah, sure," she laughs. "You ready to get to work?"

"Ugh," I groan playfully. "I suppose."

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You have to sit there and do nothing."

"Still." I shrug.

"Whatever," she chuckles. "But let's go out in the back. There's horrible lighting in here."

"Yes, Mrs. Parker," I whine. She shoots me a scowl but continues to lead me through the door and down the stairs after picking up a pad and paper. We step out onto a wooden porch and walk down the small stairs. I expect her to stop before the tree line, but we continue through the little forest area. We walk a bit before coming to a stop by a tree with a swing hanging from a branch. There was a little wooden floor set where the branches meet in the middle that has blankets and pillows scattered about.

"Is this you little hideout?" I ask, looking around in awe. I could completely see her hiding away out here, escaping for a bit to breathe and relax.

"Yeah," she sighs, smiling. "My dad built it when I was little. I've always had a thing for swings. It's my happy place. Something about having your feet above ground and the feeling above. You're not on the earth anymore, and all its troubles can't touch you."

"It's nice," I say, not really looking at the surroundings anymore, but her instead. She's intriguing in every way.

"Yep. Okay." She claps her hands together. "Let's get to work."

"Okay." I follow her steps up to the little perch and sit criss-cross in front of her. "What do I do now?" I ask, feeling almost bubbly.

"Stare into my eyes."

_Andi's POV_

Mikey nods and leans forward so I can see his eyes. I click my pen and title a new page in my notebook  _Michael Clifford's Eyes_  and start taking notes of everything I find.

_Eye color: Green  
_ _A pale green that fades to a sea green with flecks of dark green._

_Eye shape: Hooded  
_ _Predominantly hooded rounded almond. Proportioned--possibly slightly close set._

_Perceived Mood: Whole  
_ _Not so much as pure as whole and... not exactly vibrant, but zealous. His eyes are an enigma in and of themselves. Passionate but restrained. Pure but tainted. Youthful but experienced. Free but confined. I can't say they are one without seeing the other reminding me of its existence. Remains in accordance the preconception that green eyes hold a form of mystery and curiosity to them._

I stare deeper at the specks and imperfections in his eyes to try to get some answers. This is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I should have chosen Luke. Blue eyes are supposed to be clearer; either ice or ocean. Luke's seem to change, though. Sometimes they are more saturated and bright but other times they are clouded and the color of the sky.

Hinton made this seem so much simpler. Darry and Dally were cold--they had icy eyes and icy hearts. Johnny was warm and opening--he had big wide brown eyes.

"Find anything interesting about my soul yet?" Michael chuckles.

"Shh! You are hindering my concentration!" I try not to laugh back.

The more and more I look into his eyes, however, the more and more frustrated I get. I huff and lean in closer, trying to find something hidden in his irises. The first new thing I notice are his pupils suddenly dilating. Well, pupil dilation is supposed to be some sort of fortune teller because they can give away a person's decision before it is revealed. Some of the causes could be sleepiness, moral judgment, arousal, light exposure, depression. The list goes on but the rest are mostly diseases that effect dilation. I don't think any diseases would cause Michael's pupils to dilate all of the sudden. The light hasn't changed in the last few seconds, so that's probably not it.

I shift even closer and place my hands on his thighs to hold myself over him. His breath hitches and his pupils dilate even further; his eyes now nearly all black. While interesting--and if I do more research on explanations, it could be helpful--it's not really what I'm looking for at the moment.

Michael tries to move his face to the side a bit. I quickly reach out and guide his face to stare back at me, once again.

"Don't move," I reprimand. This is extremely frustrating, and the fact that I can hardly see his irises anymore doesn't help. Not to mention his heavy breaths fanning my face distract my focus.

I hook my finger under his chin and press my thumb against it, guiding his face so that I can try and see different angles. His skin is warm against my cold touch. He lets out a shaky breath that blows across my face. I didn't even realize how cold it had gotten out here, and the heat now radiating off of his body is like fire against my own.

He almost looks like he's running a fever; clammy forehead, dilated pupils, uneven breathing, flushed face, increased heart rate.

I reach to run my fingers along his cheekbone, feeling the noticeable perspiration. His shoulders suddenly slump with his heavy breath and I'm almost convinced we need to get inside to take his temperature. I place my hand against his chest and feel his heart beating like a race horse. He can hardly even take in a full breath of air.

Okay, it's decided. We're going back inside and getting some medicine in him.

I move to pull away and help him up, but I can't. Michael has his hand firmly placed behind my neck, restraining me from moving. I don't have time to ask a question before his lips are crashing against mine.

I suck in a quick breath at the same time he releases a throaty groan in response. I sit there with wide eyes for a moment before I can relax enough to close my eyes. I still remain rigid as he fervently tries to kiss me with no response. Suddenly he pulls away slightly to breathe out a frustrated growl. The sound admittedly sends shivers up my spine and down my stomach.

"Kiss me," he groans before reattaching his lips to mine.

This time, I let my muscles relax and begin to move my lips against his. The slightest movement causes Michael to moan and he cups his other hand around my face.

We've kissed before, but that was a game and I was expecting it and had control over the situation. This? however, caught me completely by surprise.

Michael moves a hand down to grip my hip tight enough to bruise and send a wave of lightning through my body, and I decide-- _fuck it_.

I allow the last of restraint out of my muscles and start moving fluidly with him.

As soon as he realizes what I'm doing, he sucks in a breath before grabbing under my thigh and pulling it over his waist. I adjust slightly so I can comfortably straddle him. He slides both of his hands up and down my legs, his lips never relenting.

He takes my bottom lip between his lips and bites down before harshly pulling back. The action alone almost makes my eyes roll back in my head.

I respond by fisting my fingers through his hair and tugging in time with my heavy breaths. He pinches under my thighs before quickly moving them up to squeeze my ass.

I moan, giving in and forcing my tongue between his lips. I sigh as I relish in the feel of his mouth on my tongue. My nails rake down the sides of his head and back of his neck. He releases a throaty groan and harshly swirls his tongue with mine. He scratches his nails from my shoulder blades down my back, and I roll my body against his touch. The first real source of friction between us causes him to gasp and pull away, panting.

"God," he groans. "From the minute I saw you smile, I knew your lips would be amazing."

"Then stop talking and let me prove it," I grunt and pull him against me, forcefully pressing my lips back to his.

 


	13. Chapter 13

_My eyes deceive me, but it's still the same._

_[«Pretend it's OK» Little Mix](https://youtu.be/iqrxxHv_8YU) _

\-----

"Do you guys want to do anything?" Luke asks from his spot on the couch next to me. 

"Yes!" Calum groans and sets down his bass that he was playing around with. 

Ashton and Michael are out doing... well I don't know. And R had to help her mom with something... well I don't know that one either. But that leaves me with Luke and Calum all Sunday. It wouldn't be so bad if I could paint, but I have to wait for my most recent layer to dry. Usually, I could just keep painting over the wet parts, but the colors I'm using for this part are temperamental and I don't want to deal with if they cross over each other. I'm almost done with the black hole. Then I just have to do some shading and make the destroyed image in the center and it should be all finished. It's coming out pretty cool, to be honest. But now that means that I am stuck with two bored teenage boys and homework. 

"I have to start writing my analysis on the stuff I got from Michael yesterday," I huff and continue going through and adding notes with my laptop underneath my notepad. I have a bunch of tabs open on eye personalities and meanings of this and that. There are a few case studies that look promising. 

"How is it going?" Calum asks and plops down on one of the beanbags in front of the couch. "Are Michael's eyes cooperating?" 

"Good." I shrug. "He kind of has difficult--well more like complicated--eyes to decipher. It's a little frustrating. Hey! Do you guys have a good picture of him where you can see his eyes that I can use as reference?" 

"Uh, yeah. Let me check," Luke mumbles and starts tapping away on his phone. 

"Thank you! Will you send it to me?" I ask. 

"Yep," he answers mindlessly as he continues scrolling through his albums. 

I continue looking through the articles on my screen. There's a chart with a bunch of different colored green eyes. I never gave much thought to how many different specific eye colors there are. I mean I could always tell the uniqueness in them all, but having them named and laid out in front of me is kind of eye opening. 

Get it? Get it? No. Okay. Ugh! God that was bad. 

But really. I mean Hayden and my dad both have green eyes and I always could see the differences, but this just makes all of them so much more prominent. Hayden's eyes are warm and a more saturated almost lime with some forest green streaks. My dad's, however, are more like a mint; light and cool. They are almost like the color of an icicle tinted with pale green. 

I click back onto the article I had been reading through when Calum and Luke's phone buzz. 

"Who is it?" I ask, taking the opportunity for a little break. I mean, I assume it will be one of three people. But then again... do they have other friends? I don't think so... but who knows? 

"Ash," Calum says, sounding almost confused. "He wants to know if we're with you." 

"Why?" I ask, now as confused as Calum. "You know, you'd think he would know where to find me on his own by now. Or why didn't he just text me if he was looking for me?" I take out my phone and light up the screen to find I don't have any missed messages. 

"I don't know." Calum shrugs and types back a response. 

It doesn't take long before both of their phones buzz again, but Luke ignores the group notification and continues scrolling. 

"Hey..." Calum looks up at me with a weird expression. "What happened with you and Mike?" 

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

He shrugs. "Ashton just said something happened, apparently. Was it yesterday?" 

"I don't know," I say, thinking back. "Not really. I got some notes on his eyes. Horny dude ended up kissing me, so we made out for a bit. He made stupid comments here and there, but that's the usual. We hung--" 

"Wait!" both of them shout, Luke finally putting down his phone to stare at me with wide eyes. 

"You guys made out?" Calum asks, speaking slowly. I put down my pen and notepad and cautiously look back at them. 

"Yeah. Why?" I ask. 

"What do you mean  _why_?!" Luke asks. 

"I mean... why are you all... I don't know. That." I shake my hand in front of their faces. 

"Because... You! And like... Michael! And... Gahh!" Luke struggles to explain. I give him a weird look. 

"Dude, chill. Even in my research, it says people can become attracted to someone if they subconsciously find their eyes appealing or some shit. We were staring into each other's eyes for like half an hour. It's a natural reaction. But that doesn't mean it's anything else," I explain and shrug my shoulders. 

"Did you explain your little theory to Mike?" Calum asks, suspiciously. 

"No." I shrug again. "I didn't think I needed to. I figured it was just whatever. It's just how I am. No need to throw a fit over it." 

"What do you mean, 'how you are'?" Luke asks. 

"Well..." I think of the right way to explain it. "I wouldn't say I'm not looking for a relationship and that's the reason it's no big deal or whatever. It's just... I don't know. I don't really take things further or make little things anything serious." 

"Why?" Calum asks, now sounding genuinely curious instead of shocked and lost or whatever shit the guy was feeling. 

"I don't know really. They're just too much work and I don't want to have to deal with all the other person's emotions and have to hang out with them and worry about if they think I don't give a shit about them. Guys are very high maintenance, you know," I stress in teasing. They both scoff and roll their eyes. 

"Again... does Michael know about that?" Calum asks. 

"I don't know. I guess I figured he wouldn't have to," I say. 

"It might be a good idea to slip that in the conversation..." Luke trails off. 

I roll my eyes. "Well... too bad. It was his choice. He kissed me." 

"That doesn't mean anything. You kissed back, didn't you?" Calum asks. 

"Yeah. But  _that_  doesn't mean anything, either. He made the first move and chose to kiss me." 

"That's not how things work!" Luke looks like he's starting to get really confused and frustrated. His eyes are all crazy and flustered. It's almost humorous. 

"That's how  _I_  work!"

"But you don't know if Mikey works like that!" he cries. 

"Well then... he'll figure it out." I shrug. "Now that we have that cleared up... will you send me that pick? I need to get the original analysis before I meet with Mikey again for the rest." 

"Wait! You guys are doing  _more_  of your eye stuff?!" Luke shrieks. 

"Uh... yeah..." I scoff. "I only have some of the physical analysis notes done. I need to get the psychological and match them to how he answers questions and what I learn from him." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Because, well... it's not," Calum says. 

I raise my hands up in defense. "Hey, blame your lip lock friend! We would have gotten much more done if he could keep his hands to himself." 

Luke and Calum gawk incredulously at me before falling back with a grunt. Luke turns to Calum without lifting his head from the couch. 

"This is gonna be a mess." 

"Yep. Here we go..." Calum sighs. 

I roll my eyes at them. "Drama queens," I scoff. "Now will you send me the damn picture?"

Luke lets out a heavy sigh. "Yeah." 

"Thank you!" I chirp and turn back to my computer, continuing my work. 

_Michael's POV_

"You're kind of an idiot, you know that?" Ashton mumbles. 

"You are so much help, Ash!" I moan and roll over on my stomach and shove my pillow under my face. I don't wanna deal with life right now. I want to sleep. Ashton apparently doesn't agree. 

"So... are you into Andi now?" he carefully asks. 

"I didn't think so," I huff and turn my head to look at him. "I mean, she's a cool girl and all. And different. I was checking out her room and it was everything and nothing like I expected," I laugh. "She has a thing for swings, too. She's like... really into them." 

"Like she collects them...?" 

I roll my eyes. "No, idiot. She just really likes them. Has this whole thing about not letting the world touch you when you're on them." 

"I like that," Ashton says. "It's like a moment of freedom from absolutely everything tying you down." 

"Yeah..." I trail off, look ahead at nothing. 

"So are you gonna talk to her about it...?" 

"I guess," I huff. 

"You're the one who got yourself into this mate," Ashton chuckles. I throw my pillow at his face. 

"I didn't mean to," I groan. "It wasn't like it was leading that way the whole time. We were just how we usually were. Then we went out to the tree swing thing and she was all mesmorized by it and then we had to look into each other's eyes... and I mean even then it was still all good. But then I got bored and started studying her face back... and I don't know... like I said--she's different. She's like this mysetery that I can't seem to pin down. Then she kept getting closer and pursed her lips while she was studying my eyes. And then she scooted even closer until she was almost on top of me!  _Then_  she put her hands on my thighs and got so close that I could feel her breath. I don't even think she meant to or even knew she was doing it, but she kept letting her hands go further up my legs." I chuckle humorlessly. "And... guess what happened next." 

"A bird flew by and thought your hair was his mate," Ashton chuckles and I flip him off. 

"No, jackass. I got  _hard_. Just  _staring_  at a girl and her  _barely_  resting her hands on my legs, I got hard. And then... ugh... I got all nervous and embarrassed. I don't think she even noticed, but I tried to look away and calm myself down, you know? Instead, it had the opposite effect--she cupped my face and turned me back to her. And by that point... I mean I didn't have much control. She ran her other hand across my cheek and that was it. I saw her pulling away and lost it. And...  _fuck_! Okay, maybe I'm a horny bastard but she was a fucking good kisser. Just...  _fuck_ ," I groaned. 

"Dude, your face is all flushed and clammy," Ashton giggles. His fucking giggle. 

"You're a dick." 

He laughs and raises his arms in defense. "You're the one getting all worked up just thinking about a little make-out sesh," he laughs. 

"Well sorry! I haven't gotten laid in months  _so_...!" I cry. 

"Well don't do anything about that part until you talk to Andi. Girls can be touchy about that stuff," he chuckles. 

"Even Andi?" 

"Is she a girl?" he slowly asks. 

"Fuck, I hope so," I breathe out. 

"That'd be a fun twist," Ashton laughs. 

"You're enjoying this way too much." 

He shrugs. "You just created a huge mess all of us are gonna have to sit through. May as well enjoy the calm before the storm." 

I sigh and close my eyes, snuggling into the sheets. "Where is Andi's squirt bottle when I need it?"

 


	14. Chapter 14

_Don't be so blind. Time is not on our side. Look me straight in the eyes. Do not say you will be alright._

_[«Ghost In The Mirror» Memphis May Fire](https://youtu.be/VxmhG9RPn7o) _

\-----

"Who was known as the 'Angel of Death' and why?" I read out loud to R. We have our exam on the Holocaust in History next and are going over the study guide our teacher handed out one last time on our way to class.

"Josef Mengele because... uh... he was the one with the twin thing, right?"

"Yes," I answer and read off the correct response, "because he would torture and perform experiments on Jewish children in the extermination camps. And yes, he was the dude with the twin thing. What did he do with twins?"

"He would do different tests and see things like if they bleached one twin's eyes would the other go blind, or torture one to see if the other would feel pain."

"Correct," I say.

"Okay. I think I'm actually ready for this test, believe it or not," she happily chirps.

"I'm glad," I laugh as we walk into our history class.

"Morning Miss Gavich," R and I both greet.

"Good morning! Are you ready for your torture test?" She smiles big and wide. She's joking--well, kinda--but we laugh along. She has a dry--and morbid--sense of humor that honestly makes her my favorite teacher ever. Although we aren't allowed to go home and tell our parents about her Hitler jokes, because apparently she's gotten in trouble for those before.

"Yeah... Me and Hitler may as well be BFFs at this point," I chuckle.

"Yeah, well hey! I hear he has a great spa! His steam rooms are world famous for taking the tension right out of ya!" she laughs and I join in.

"Oh, I'll have to make him show me at our next slumber party!"

"Just remember--don't drop the soap," she mock scolds and I burst out laughing.

"We're awful people, aren't we?" I chuckle.

"Yeah, but it makes life so much more entertaining!"

"Very true," I say.

"Ahhh... yeah, I'm goin' to hell," she chuckles under her breath. I shake my head and move to my seat towards the back of the class with R right behind me. I drop my bag on the ground and plop down in my seat before looking for a pencil in my collection of junk.

"I swear, I was so organized a few months ago," I laugh.

"Meh, I gave up on that years ago," R chuckles back.

A few minutes later, I have my pencil and study guide resting open on my desk as the bell rings for the beginning of class. I huff and put the packet back in my bag.

"Okay, you have the rest of the period to finish the test. When you're done... well I don't give a crap what you do, as long as you are silent," Miss Gavich announces as she passes out our tests. I chuckle and take my paper from the person in front of me. I write my name and date on the top of the page before beginning on the first question and making my way through the packet.

_1\. The Final Solution refers to_   
_c. the plan for the systematic extermination of Jews_

_33\. The name for the so-called 'perfect race' was_   
_a. Aryan_

_57\. How many were killed in the Holocaust?_   
_b. about eleven million_

_81\. What is another term for Krystallnacht?_   
_d. Night of Broken Glass_

_105\. Who is the author of 'Night'?_   
_a. Ellie Wiesel_

_149\. What concentration camp was Anne Frank sent to and where she ended up dying?_   
_c. Auschwitz_

_162\. What cyanide-based pesticide was used in the gas chambers?_   
_d. Zyklon B_

_186\. What was Schutzstaffel (SS)?_   
_b. an elite military unit of the Naziparty that served as Hitler's bodyguard and as a special police force_

_200\. What would Miss Gavich name her pet yorkie?_   
_a. Minion_

After I finish the last question, I put my pencil down and walk my test to the front of the class and hand it to Miss Gavich.

"How did you do?" she asks.

"Well... I know I got two-hundred right!" I joke and she darkly chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go sit down, minion."

I laugh as I walk back to my seat, pulling out  _The Outsiders_. I only have a few chapters left and have already balled my eyes out a number of times. I even memorized Robert Frost's poem  _Nothing Gold Can Stay_  after reading the part where Johnny dies. I repeated it over in my mind with his last words to Ponyboy ringing in my ears through the tears.

_Nature's first green is gold,_   
_Her hardest hue to hold._   
_Her early leaf's a flower;_   
_But only so an hour._   
_Then leaf subsides to leaf._   
_So Eden sank to grief,_   
_So dawn goes down to day._   
_Nothing gold can stay._

Johnny always thought Ponyboy was better than the rest of the hoodlums. He was good and pure--he was gold. He wanted him to hold onto that to separate him from the others. That alone was enough to make me tear up simply due to the fact that Ponyboy always thought Johnny was so much better than him--or anyone, for that matter. He thought he was innocent and sweet and caring and always put others first--especially Ponyboy. And then he basically proves that with the words he chooses to be his last words on earth.

_Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold._

Those five words had me in a fit of tears. Even in death, Johnny was so innocent. He still believed that good can remain. He still thought this world would spare even a few of its treasures. After all he went through, how could he still believe that there is even a possibility for something gold to never tarnish? The world doesn't spare goodness--it rips it to shreds and leaves us the pieces to hold onto. The pieces are where the good comes from. They are small, but somehow we have convinced ourselves that it is enough to make this world a beautiful place. We ignore the fact that the only goodness has already been torn apart.

Even Ponyboy succumbs to this sheltered view. I highlighted the quote a few chapters back,

_Dally was so real he scared me._

Ponyboy views Soda or Darry as the real-life heroes. He is comfortable with them. They are good. Dally is hard and mean, so it scares him that that is what a hero in the real world can be. A hero can be scary and flawed and so unlike the heroes he reads about in his books. Because if a hero can be so hardened, what in this world can't?

How sad is it to think that the human race is so blind and willing to believe that the world is a wonderful place because accepting the reality is too much to bare? We are all living in a fantasy where gold can remain. Robert Frost seems to be of the few who see the shadowed truth;  _nothing gold can stay_.

I'm in the middle of highlighting a part where Ponyboy accepts the ride home from a man when the bell rings and students begin scrambling to finish the last few questions and turn in their tests. I put my book back in my bag and sling it over my shoulder before walking over to R.

"Ready for lunch?" she asks as I come up behind her.

"Yeah. Are you gonna help me with that... thing?" I ask.

"Oh, right," she chuckles. "Well, the thing is... I told Luke I would help him with his Chemistry homework..."

I give her a weird look. "You don't do Chemistry homework."

She shrugs. "I did this assignment."

"Uh huh..." I mumble. "All because you wanted to 'help' Luke with his?"

She smirks. "I have a system, you know."

I huff a laugh. "Yeah. I've seen your system."

"It really does work wonders," she jokes while completely serious.

"Okay, whatever you say. Then I'm gonna go. I still have to grab the stuff from my locker," I laugh and begin to back away towards the door.

"Have fun!" she sings and I turn out into the hallway.

"Hey! Andi, wait up!" I hear a familiar voice call from behind me. I turn around to see Mikey walking out the same door I just came from, chasing after me.

"Hey, what's up?" I chirp as he falls into step with me.

"Well, uh..." he starts, but seems to stutter on his words with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"You okay there?" I chuckle at him.

His face seems to twist up in confusion and he looks lost, but keeps his gaze on the floor in front of him.

"Well, yeah. I just... I mean..." he goes on. I give him a few seconds to put his thoughts together before I get impatient and cut his rambling short.

"Hey, while you figure out whatever is going on in that firetruck head of yours, wanna help me with something?" I perk up.

He seems taken aback and uncomfortable but pulls himself together enough to respond, "Sure, I guess."

"Perfect!" I chirp as we walk up to my locker. I twist in my combination and open the metal door.

"So what exactly are we doing?" Mikey asks, speaking slowly.

I chuckle and grab the bottles of glue and roll of duct tape. I quickly stuff them in my bag before anyone can see.

"Just a little... well I suppose you would call it payback?" I giggle.

"What sort of payback?"

"Mrs. Rylen made me clean her figurine collection, remember?"

"Yeah..." he chuckles, seeming to be loosening up a bit.

"Well, I don't like that. So while she goes to a business lunch with the principal, we are gonna make a little mess of our own for her to clean up."

He gives me a wary look before a sly smile creeps up his lips.

"I'm in."

I smile deviously back at him.

"Let's go then."

I zip up my backpack and throw it over my shoulder before we rush off through the halls. Once we reach Mrs. Rylen's room, the halls are empty. We quietly creep through the door and close it behind us. I waste no time in stalking over to her desk and pulling out my supplies.

"So what exactly are we doing?" Michael chuckles as I unscrew the glue bottle.

"You see this stack of books?" I ask and nod my head towards the pile of various textbooks and workbooks off to the side of her desk. "We are gonna glue them to each other and then wrap tape around the whole thing. I'd like to see her clean that up with a q-tip," I laugh.

"Brilliant and random," Mike laughs with me.

"Yep. Now bring it over here."

He walks over and carries the stack before placing it on the desk in front of me. I smirk and take off the top four books, leaving the bottom facing up at me.

"This is gonna be fun," I mumble with a smile and pour a big blob of glue in the middle of the textbook. I start smearing it around until the entire cover is covered in white. I pick up the next book and stick it on top, giving it a second to settle before repeating the process.

Once all five books have glue dripping off the sides, I start fanning the stack with a folder. The glue only needs to dry a bit so it will stick, so I finish quickly and pick up the silver roll of duct tape. I pull a big strip and the sound of the tape rippling is music to my ears. I ask Michael to hold it up before wrapping around the block over and over again. I cut the piece and move to wrap it in the other direction. I don't stop until the entire roll is gone and I'm left with a cardboard tube.

"Not bad," I say as I step back to admire my work.

"I would love to see her face when she finds this," he laughs, standing back with me.

I let out a sigh of contentment before bending down and picking up my bag once again.

"Yep. Now let's get out of here," I say. He nods and starts following me out of the room. I stick my head out into the hallway to make sure no one is coming. Once I decide the coast is clear, I motion for Michael to follow and step through the doorway. I carefully close the door behind us and start walking casually down the hall.

"Well that was fun," Michael says after we are only a few steps from the door.

"It'll be even more fun when she gives us a lecture about it tomorrow," I giggle.

"That doesn't sound fun," Michael cringes.

"But think how we can just sit there and watch her get all flustered and angry about something we did. It's like watching your masterpiece be appreciated exactly how you intended."

"I suppose so," Mike chuckles.

"How long until class starts?" I ask before pulling out my phone to check the time. "We have like three minutes. Okay, well my class is on the other side of campus, so I'm just gonna head over there."

"'Kay. Have fun," Mike chuckles.

"Oh yeah, it'll be a great time."

"Goodbye," he drags out and my smile falters a bit before I can pick it up again.

"Don't say goodbye," I mumble under my breath, but he seems to hear me.

"What?" he asks, stopping in his place. I slow to a stop and turn back to face him and sigh.

"Don't say goodbye. Goodbye means leaving. It's final. It's not coming back. Goodbye is for ends," I mumble, but shrug it off.

Michael's eyes fill with compassion for a moment, even though I don't understand why.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"It's just a thing I have with the word. No reason to be upset about," I chuckle.

"Yeah, sure," Michael responds and I can see him trying to force his smile to look more genuine. What's his deal? I've always had a thing with goodbye. I don't know why he seems all sad.

"Okay..." I say, deciding to just be done with this conversation. "Well, I'm gonna go to class."

"Okay. See ya later," he says with a bit of a brighter expression. I turn and walk away very confused with Michael's moods today.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **REAL QUICK** keep in mind i'm from America and idk what you people in Aussie do but i'm in American Studies this year and pretty sure you guys don't take that so i'm going with world history i guess but i took that freshman year so and took holocaust sophomore year so its a little more fresh in my mind... and i have a legit teacher like this so that makes it stick around a bit more in my brain XDXDXD just a warning ***AMERICAN***
> 
> Sorry if the last half is kinda iffy i was half asleep writing it but i just wanted to have it finished!!! THANKS!!! XDXDXD


	15. Chapter 15

_She sits up high, surrounded by the sun. One million branches and she loves everyone. "Mom and dad, did you search for me? I've been up here so long I'm going crazy."_

_[«Hold On Till May» Pierce The Veil](https://youtu.be/nFoBBVmsgcc) _

\-----

_From: Andi_   
_hey are you free to work on the project today? only have a week and a half left sooo ;)_

_From: Mikey_   
_ya i can be there in ten. your place again?_

_From: Andi_   
_YEP!!! see you in ten :)))_

Not five minutes later and Michael is standing in front of my door.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" I laugh and let him inside.

"What can I say? I was in the mood for a good swing," he says.

"Swing?" I chuckle.

"As in the little wooden seat attached to sting you have in a tree?" he laughs.

"Okay... Hey, you dyed your hair again?" I ask, just noticing his blue head.

"Yep. Like it?" he cheerfully asks.

"Yeah..." I mumble, mulling over the fact that it's extremely similar to the streaks of color I have in my hair. "It's a good color on you."

He smiles, seeminly happy with himself, before Hayden's voice comes screeching from upstairs.

"Andi!"

"What do you want?!" I cry back.

"Who's at the door?!"

"Michael!"

"Hey Mike!" he yells in a happier tone than when he was addressing me.

"Hey little dude!" he laughs back.

"Hey, Jax is here. Wanna say hi?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure." He shrugs with a smile. I give a curt nod and lead him upstairs and into the game room.

"Hey! You're a blueberry!" is the first thing out of Hayd's mouth as we step through the doorway.

"Good to see you, too," he chuckles. "What you up to?"

"I'm beating Jax at  _FIFA_ ," Hayden laughs. Jax slaps him backhandedly across the chest.

"By like one point!" he scolds.

"I feel like that is still winning," Hayd points back.

"Shut up."

"No. I like my voice. It's soothing."

"It sounds like a truck ran over your voice box."

"Oh please, it sounds like the angels singing."

I roll my eyes and turn to introduce Mike to Jax.

"Michael, this is Jax. Jax, Michael." I motion between them.

"Hey. Cool hair, mate," he comments.

"Thanks," Michael chuckles, not knowing what else to say.

"Okay, well I wanna grab a jumper and then let's go out to the back," I say.

"Sounds good." I nod and lead him out of the room, down the hallway until we reach my door. I open it and walk in before him. I grab my jumper R gave me for Christmas last year and slip it on over my t-shirt and spandex. Everyone in my life has already accepted the fact that I will never wear pants if I don't have to. I turn around and find Michael staring intently at my bed.

"What'cha looking at?" I ask, trying to draw his attention. He hears me but doesn't look away.

"Did you design that?" he asks and casually nods to my bed. I look and see my comforter is lying open and he can see the picture covering it.

"Yeah. Why?"

"What is it?"

"It's a quote thing from a song," I mumble. The picture depicts a silhouette image of a girl sitting sideways on a high tree branch.

"She sits up high, surrounded by the sun..." Michael reads off the lettering.

I shrug even thought I know he's not looking to see. "I like it. It's a really good song, too."

"What's it called?" he asks, his voice quiet. I wish I could tell what is going on in his head.

" _Hold On Till May_. It's by  _Pierce The Veil_."

"I've heard of them. Also from your posters," he lightly chuckles.

"Yeah, they're pretty great. Do you know what the term 'pierce the veil' actually means?" He hums in response so I continue, "It means to go directly to the source of a problem and completely cut it out."

"That's actually really clever for a band name."

"If something is truly bothering you or causing you pain, just go to the heart of the problem and get rid of it at the root. It can be a breath of fresh air," I quote. "The lead singer for the band said that once. It's something I've always kind of had a hard time doing," I chuckle.

"What do you mean?" he asks, finally turning to look at me.

"I have a hard time throwing the problem out on the street." His eyes never leave mine before he gives me a little nod.

"It's something easier said than done, I suppose," he says and I scoff in response.

"No kidding," I mumble under my breath. "Okay. Ready to get to work?"

"Uh.. right. Yeah," he says, shaking his head to refocus himself. "Let's go."

I nod and grab my notebook and pen before leading him out of the house and through the trees until we reach my little nook.

"Can I sit on the swing this time?" he asks with a smile that rivals a kindergartener asking for a lollipop before dinner.

"But then I can't really see you," I chuckle as he ignores and moves to sit on the wooden plank.

"Then... I don't know. Here, just sit in my lap," he says and pats his leg for me to come sit.

I cock an eyebrow at him but slowly make my way to the swing. Once I'm standing in front of him, I shrug and decide what the fuck? I hand him my pad and pen before reaching up to grab onto the rope on either side, gripping a few inches above his head. I hold on and pull myself up and swing my legs over the seat and rest on either side of Michael before lowering myself to rest on his lap.

"Yeah, this works. I can see your eyes even better, actually," I chuckle and inwardly smirk at his flustered expression, probably not expecting me to straddle him when he simply asked me to sit on his lap. But really, it would be terribly difficult and uncomfortable to study his face while sitting sideways across his lap. This works much better.

"You don't make anything simple, do you?" he chuckles, trying to cover his surprise.

"Simple is just a synonym for boring."

"Or easy."

"Life isn't easy."

He pouts in defeat and I laugh at his childish face.

"Fine. Let's just do this," he sighs.

"Good enthusiasm," I laugh but adjust myself to hold the paper slightly resting against his chest. "Now open your eyes big and wide."

"Yes, Miss Parker," he mumbles but I let it go and resume my study of his eyes.

I notice they are slightly brighter than before and make note of the difference.

"Your eyes are happier this time," I quietly comment. I have to remember to actually find information to tie my observations to. Other than horniness, this time.

"Maybe they like the view."

"That was literally the most embarrassing sentence to ever leave your lips," I mumble, not even cracking a smirk and continuing studying the colors and shapes flourishing in his irises.

"That's not what I meant," he scoffs. "I mean, you have really pretty eyes. They have these little gold specks that shine really bright in the light and make the brown like a dark honey. It's pretty cool, actually."

"Well thank you," I say, appreciating the compliment. "My eyes don't exactly hate yours either."

"They can be friends," he says with a breathy laugh.

"Apples most recent product: iFriends." This coaxes a legitimate laugh from his lips and I allow myself to crack a smirk.

"It's a genius invention."

"Revolutionary," I joke. "So do you want to give a legit answer to my question so I can have something to actually include in my paper?"

"As to why my eyes are happier?" he chuckles and I nod. "The brain behind 'em is happier, I suppose."

"Any specific reason?"

"Is it strange to be happier?"

"No, but a reason would help support my evidence in my research."

He sighs and tries to think. "I'm just enjoying how my life is going right now, I guess. The band is going good and it's fun having you and R around to mess with," he laughs and I give him a look to let him know I am not impressed.

"Yeah, you guys are good at that part."

"I'd like to think it's our specialty," he giggles.

"Well it certainly isn't music," I tease. He feigns offense and pinches my side, causing me to squeal and flinch away from his touch.

"Don't even think about it," I scold. His face twists into a devious smirk. "No," I warn him once more.

His smirk only grows and he reaches to tickle my side again. I laugh and jerk away from his hand. He laughs and starts tickling me harder.

"Michael, stop!" I yell through giggles. I squirm in his lap and try to get away from his attack. "I will murder you in your sleep!"

"Nah! You'd miss me too much!" he laughs.

"You're so sure about that?"

"Positive."

I give him a mocking glare and he locks his eyes back on mine. Our stare down doesn't shift as our hands fend each other off below. My face scrunches up as I try to pry Michael's hand off my torso. He laughs and bites his lip when he squeezes tighter. I become more and more frustrated the longer he restrains my arms. He notices this and giggles. I huff and narrow my gaze, never relenting my hands against his.

A smirk stretches across my face when an idea pops into my mind and I quickly lean in to press my lips against his. I want to laugh when his body immediately freezes and I do a little victory dance in my head. I take the opportunity to grab his wrists and pin the against his back.

I hold them tight before pulling back. I wear and evil smirk while is only stunned. I quirk my eyebrow, silently challenging him to make his next move. Believe it or not, I did not expect for him to lean forward in a desperate move to reattach our lips, so I can't help the small surprised gasp escape my throat when our faces are once again pressed against each other.

I sigh against his lips and loosen my muscles to move against his, not thinking about much else.

He groans when he feels me kissing back and this time doesn't hesitate to jut his hips up against mine. I yelp slightly, which only seems to encourage him. He rolls his body--and pelvis--against me, and I moan at his touch. I hook my legs behind his back and dig my nails into his wrists, still restrained behind him.

He seems to remember this and tries to pull free, but I keep my tight grip. He grunts in frustration and I can only smirk in response. I decide to tease him and push my chest harder against him, showing him exactly what he can't touch. He lets out a strangled groan and pulls harder against my hold. I roll my own hips against him, having a fun time messing with him. His breath catches and he has to pull back, panting. I jerk my hips once more and he hisses through clenched teeth. It takes him a few seconds before he's diving back in. The difference this time is that he immediately shoves his tongue past my lips. It stuns me long enough for him to release my grasp and he quickly wraps his arms around me and squeezes my ass. We both moan at the contact and hungrily attack each other's mouths, filling the air with grunts and gasps.

I squeal when I'm suddenly being lifted up and huff when my back is harshly pushed up against a tree. I don't object, just wrap my legs tighter around Michael and lace my fingers through his blueberry hair. He scrapes his hands down thighs and throw my head back against the trunk to catch my breath. He moves to attach my neck, biting roughly and leaving marks up and down my skin, hardly waiting to let his tongue soothe the burn before moving to the next. I helplessly grind my body against him.

His hands move to my sides and begin trailing upwards, taking my t-shirt and jumper with them. When his cool touch reaches my ribs, I grow frustrated with the restricting fabric and throw my jumper off me to the ground. Michael breathlessly grunts and moves his hands under my shirt, slowly inching up my chest. I get impatient and bring his lips back to mine before moving his hands to my boobs. We both groan at the new sensations, letting out a breath of relief we had both been holding in. The rough bark scratches against my back as our bodies move against each other but hardly notice. If anything, I like it.

Michael seems to be no newbie to all of this and that shouldn't turn me on as much as it does. Still, I can't help but praise the practice he must have had to get this good. His tongue moves expertly against mine and his hands know exactly what to do with my flesh. His body moves in all the right places and leaves me breathless in his hungry grasp. If research always felt as good as this, I wouldn't hate doing it. As long as Michael is my test subject, I'll study any day.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I spent half as much time researching my actual research paper for english that I do researching stuff for this, I would be golden.

_A long day alone_ _._ _Emptiness is so real. Never having peace of mind. Running from what I can't take and there is nowhere left to hide. Turn and face these empty lies. All alone, heart unturned. Trying to find. Break me down replace this fear inside. Take this nothingness from me._

_[«Lost» Red](https://youtu.be/09MNxtNWiXs) _

\-----

"Have you ever thought about a new car? Maybe with seats?" Michael calls from the back. None of the idiots have their cars, and I don't think any of them have their license either. Meaning I was their ride to a school. 

"Yeah. Feel free to get me one for my birthday," I chuckle. 

"And we have seats," R giggles. 

I see them all flip us the finger in my rear view mirror. 

"My brother is getting a new mattress. If I brought over the old one, could we put it back here so we don't get bruised every time we want to drive down to Starbucks?" Ashton grumbles. 

"Yeah! If you wanna bring it over, feel free to stick it back there. Put anything you want in." I shrug before an alarm goes off in my head and I snap around in my seat to stare at them. "But if you turn my car into a hippy hangout girls with flower crown profile pictures post about, I will drop a bowling ball on your heads in your sleep." 

They all look scared for a second before agreeing. 

"Where can we get some twinkly lights?" Luke whispers to the other boys. I roll my eyes and spray the squirt bottle without taking my eyes off the road. They all cry out in surprise and begging to make it stop. 

"How do you manage to  _always_  have that on you?!" Michael screeches. 

"I'm not telling," I playfully snarl. 

"I'm burning it," Calum mutters. 

"Touch it and we are back to the bowling ball," I snap. 

They all groan and flop back, managing to bang their heads against the metal bunker. I chuckle and turn up the radio until I pull up into the school parking lot. 

"What do you have?" Michael asks me as we all step out of the van and start walking towards the main entrance. 

"I start in English, today." 

"Did we have any homework?" Ashton asks. 

"Just reading. And the eye project." I shrug. I see Michael's eyes in my peripheral vision flicker around until they land on the ground in front of him. "Who are you doing that on, by the way?" 

"Do you know Evan?" 

"Oh, yeah, we're friends. He's a nut," I laugh. "I sit next to him in like half of my classes. He always passes me notes that consist of everything from random and stupid to morbid and disturbing." 

"Disturbing how?" Luke warily asks. 

"Like stick figure Mrs. Rylen falling off a cliff with spikes and sharks at the bottom," I explain. "Sometimes he's at the top with a gun and she has blood spraying from her head. I've also gotten them where she has no head. But he isn't limited to cliffs or Mrs. Rylen." 

"Uhhh... Okay then..." he chuckles uncomfortably. 

"He's a weird one," I giggle an shrug it off. "But he does have great eyes." 

"Why do you know how great his eyes are?" Michael laughs with a huff. 

"Like I said, I sit next to him a lot. Not to mention we get into these stare downs when we're being stubborn. His eyelashes are like freakin' fans." 

"Hmm," he hums. 

"Can't argue with the lashes. Every time he blinks, I think I'm going to be blown away," Ashton days dramatically, waving his arms around as if he was being swept up by a gust of wind. 

"Drama queen," I laugh. 

He shrugs and we all continue to walk in silence until splitting up down the halls. Ashton and I shove each other's shoulders as we arrive in our classroom. He walks through the door before me and gives me an especially hard shove so I fly and trip over the waste bin in the corner next the door. 

"Ass-hat," I scoff and move to my seat. He giggles and walks to the back. 

Me and Candice chat for a bit about her and her ex and this other guy and blah blah blah. She won't tell me the other guy's name, but I have her ex's number and am not above texting him a question or two. Soon enough, Mr. Berkins walks in and the bell rings for class. He shuffles some papers on his podium before looking up to us. 

"So," he starts with a smirk. "What did you think?" 

Suddenly the class erupts into chaos--as always--and everyone starts screaming how unfair Johnny's death was and his last words to Ponyboy being such cruel torture to their souls. 

"So you guys liked his last words?" he laughs and I want to flick him. " _Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold_..." 

"It's cruel and unusual punishment to everyone who ever has to endure them," Candice huffs. Mr. Berkins chuckles at her. 

"That may be true. But it is a good transition into the next topic today." The class groans. He ignores. "We are going to be looking at a few of Frost's other poems. I want everyone to get out their notebooks and set up five pages." 

I pull out my battered up notepad, filled with lyrics and doodles on the cover and pages. I place it on the desk and grab a pen. 

"Okay. I am going to pull the five stanzas of Frost's poem,  _The Lockless Door_. On each page, I want you to write a stanza at the top and leave the bottom blank." 

Everyone whines at having to copy so much--even though it wasn't really that much, given what we usually do--but he shuts them down and pulls up the poem on the screen. 

"Okay, this will be your assignment and will be due not next class, but the class after that. You will analyze each stanza and write your thoughts and ideas below. I'm giving you the rest of class to start on it. You can work with someone or on your own," he says and tells us we are free to start our work. I immediately turn around to face Candice. 

"Okay, I think we can whip out at least the first stanza by the end of class. You up for it?" 

She chuckles and agrees. I smile and turn back around to quickly copy down the poem. Once we are both done and ready for the analysis, I flip to the first four lines and read it out loud for us. 

_"It went many years,_   
_But at last came a knock,_   
_And I thought of the door_   
_With no lock to lock."_

"First thoughts. Go!" Candice says. 

I groan. "Fine. Well, right off the bat and knowing a bit of Frost's language, I'd say it is a metaphor for a heart." Candice gives me a confused look so I continue, "Like the heart has remained untouched and hidden for years. Suddenly, there is something willing to get in, and the heart realizes it can't lock it out for the lock no longer exists, if it ever did. The heart is unlocked to whomever came to the door and it is terrified. It's terrified that if someone opens the door and sees inside, the heart will be exposed to the world and can no longer hide in the solitude of darkness and isolation." Candice stares at me for a second, looking almost stunned. 

"Damn, girl. Just pull that right outta your hat, won't ya?" she chuckles. I laugh along and shrug. 

"I guess it just makes sense in my head," I joke. 

"I may want to borrow your brain some time," she laughs. I cast my gaze down on my paper. 

"No blessing is without a curse," I mumble to myself. Candice doesn't hear me and we start jotting down the notes on our papers. 

"Well, since that was so simple, you wanna try to get started on the next part?" she asks and puts down her pen. 

"Sure." I shrug. We flip to the next page. 

" _I blew out the light,_  
 _I tip-toed the floor,_  
 _And raised both hands_  
 _In prayer to the door_."

"What'da think?" I prod. 

"I don't know how much there is to this. It's more of a transition thingy or something, isn't it?" 

"Pretty much, I think. Let's just see if we can a few sentences to write down so we have at least something," I mumble. "But it's your turn to take the first crack at it." She groans but still reads over it once again and tries to come up with something. 

"Okay well, given that we are going with the whole heart thing, it seems, I'm gonna say it is like the heart's last effort to remain protected from the outside world--or we'll call it reality." 

"Okay, yeah. I like that. So it's trying to erase anything that draws attention to it... I don't know how to explain it," I drawl and try to put my thoughts into words. 

"Yeah, by blowing out the candle and trying to be silent, it's like the final thread of hope to stay hidden, or else it will have to embrace whatever lies beyond the door. It makes the final effort and raises its hands in prayer just begging to be spared the light of reality." 

"I like that. Damn, we're good!" I laugh and high-five her. 

"Damn straight!" We both laugh and joke around about our genius level before we settle back down. 

"How much longer do we have before class ends?" I ask. 

"Hmm... thirty minutes." 

"Should we try to do one more? We seem to be whipping them out easily enough and I would love not to have too much homework," I groan. 

"Yeah, let's go for it. It's your turn, anyways," she giggles with an obnoxious smile. I playfully glare at her but turn to the next stanza. 

" _But the knock came again._  
 _My window was wide;_  
 _I climbed on the sill_  
 _And descended outside_."

"What'cha got on that?" 

"Hmm," I ponder. "I mean, it hears the knock again and panics that something really is at the door and isn't seeming to be leaving. So... it escapes on his own rather than face whatever is trying to force through his sheltered safety." 

"Wait--he goes outside? Doesn't that kind of oppose all we've said about it not wanting to be exposed to reality?" 

I groan and push my hands through my hair. I rest my head in my hands and read over the words again. 

"Okay, maybe not. When you think about it, it's a panicked act in the despair of the moment. It figures out that something is coming in, right? So, it figures somehow in that moment that the only way to keep it from having the thing prying open its shelter is to go out on its own. At least by doing that, nothing can see what it truly is and the darkness it holds." 

"What is it, truly?" Candice asks, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. 

I shrug. "It is a beaten and broken heart that can no longer survive the darkness of reality, so it created its own darkness..." I say, struggling to put the right words together. "Okay, wait. Let's try this: it created a shelter of darkness that it can hide in, because even though it is still trapped in darkness, it can limit what comes in and makes it deal with, almost. Like... it can control what it allows to get inside of him. That way, it can ignore all the other things that it knows are waiting outside. It knows that all the other things would destroy it if it had to face them. And by jumping out the window, it isn't actually being forced to deal with reality. It is running away from one thing into the rest of them until it is safe to go back. Because if something were to force it into reality and make him deal with all the other things, that something would not let it go back and hide and it really would have to face it all. It knows that if it has to face it all, it will destroy it. So it figures he will momentarily face a few things in the time it is waiting for the thing at his door to go away. After all, nothing is going to stand by and wait to help something who doesn't want--or at least know--how to be helped. They will get bored and frustrated and leave. Everything leaves after it stares at a broken brick wall, waiting for it to put itself back together without being able to use their own hands for the wall won't let them." 

Candice stares blankly, once again, and I begin to think everything I just said made absolutely no sense. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. I could hardly follow my own train of thought. Sometimes, it is hard to put my thoughts into words. Especially when it comes to the stuff encoded in my own head... or experiences, I suppose. 

"If you don't get an A on this assignment, I will personally shove Berkins' head in a toilet," Candice says in a completely serious tone, waking me from my musings. 

"Thanks," I laugh. "Just wear a mask." 

She gives me a puzzled look and laughs, "You're a weird one, sometimes." 

I laugh and shrug. I like being odd. It makes life more entertaining. 

We continue to map out our thoughts and try to transfer them to our papers the best we can until the bell rings and we pack up our things. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

_I dedicate this song to you. The one who never sees the truth, that I can take away your hurt, heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the day light. I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, heartbreak girl?_

_[«Heartbreak Girl» 5 Seconds of Summer](https://youtu.be/GfJQK-4DZEk) _

\-----

"Don't even think about it!" I laugh, trying to be stern as possible. 

"You brought it on yourself," Mikey chuckles, shrugging heartlessly. 

"I will wring your neck while you sleep," I shout, still giggling--mentally scolding myself for not being able to keep a straight face. 

"Oh, please," he scoffs. "You couldn't live without me." His lips turn up in a smug smile. I glare at him. 

"Don't you dare." 

His smirk grows ten sizes and he bites his lip to reign it in. I can see the physical excitement in his eyes. He lets out a quick  _giggle_  before pulling the trigger and immediately dousing my face with water 

"You idiot!" I shout. He gives in and releases a real laugh. 

"You brought this on yourself, babe," he giggles. 

"I'm gonna kill you," I laugh. I jump from my spot and shoot over to tackle him. He starts laughing harder and allows me to take him to the floor, any and all thought of actually getting things done forgotten. 

"If you make me fall out of this tree, I'm taking you with me!" he laughs. 

"Go ahead and try!" 

He grabs a hold of my wrists and tries to wrestle me down. I bite down on my lip and fight back. 

"Not as tough without your little water shooter, now are you?" Michael laughs. 

"Look who's talking!" I laugh. He tries to twist my arms and we both fall onto our sides, wrestling and shouting insults at each other, neither of us trying to contain our giggles. 

"Andi!" 

We both pause our fighting. "Yeah, mom?!" I yell. 

"I have to take your grandma to the doctor! Will you watch Hayden and Jax while I'm gone?!" her distant voice calls back. I quietly groan, but tell her I'll be in in a minute. She says she'll be back in a few hours and goes back inside. 

"I guess that's my cue to scurry," Mike says, sitting up. 

"No. You can stay if you want." I shrug, indifferent. "I'll probably just sit in the game room on my phone, just there in case they try to burn the house down." 

"Is that a plausible danger?" Mikey jokes. 

I scrunch my face in a look of consideration. "As of about a year ago, actually." 

Michael stops laughing and gives me a weird look. "How did they manage to do that?" 

"They're kind of idiots. I was sitting at the kitchen counter on my laptop when Jax comes up to me with a burning piece of printer paper. His face looked so in awe, and said 'I didn't know paper burned!' and I swear, his voice was full of surprise. I took the lighter he found away from him, only to find him and Jax trying to smuggle a box of matches from the cabinet." 

He stares at me with a blank expression. "I'm reconsidering sticking around for this." 

I laugh and dismissively wave my hand. "No, believe me. They won't pull that again." 

"What did you do?" he asks with narrowed eyes. 

I shrug one shoulder. "They said they didn't know paper burned, I said I didn't know eyebrows burned." His eyes go wide and I can't help but smirk. "So are you sticking around for the show?" 

He huffs through pursed lips, sounding like a begrudged horse, and successfully sprays me with his saliva. I grimace and dramatically wipe it from my face. 

"You're disgusting," I groan. His smirk brightens and moves to climb down. "So you coming?" 

"Hmm," he ponders, stroking his chin making me want to slap him. "Yeah, I'll be coming." 

I nod and move down after him, halting halfway when I realize his words.

"Ew! Michael Gordon Clifford! Make one more remark, I swear you will wake up without eyebrows!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, feigning clueless. "Don't try to taint my innocent mind." 

I scoff and shake my head, climbing down the rest of the way. "You're ridiculous." 

"Take it or leave it, babe," he says. 

"Careful with your words, Clifford. Don't give me an out and not expect me to take it." 

"Please, you couldn't  _live_  without me."

I reach the ground with a thump, landing beside a smug Michael. "You'd be surprised who you can live without, when it's the only option." I smirk and start walking through the trees, giving it a moment before I hear shuffling footsteps hurrying to catch up. 

"Yeah, I suppose, but it wouldn't be as much fun," he says, sounding like a taunting child. 

I roll my eyes and shove my shoulder into his. If we happened to be passing a tree, which Michael happened to run into, no one could prove a thing. 

We continue in comfortable silence, Michael flashing me weird faces whenever I glance over at him. 

Idiot. 

I walk him through the back door, and immediately, we can hear the chaos coming from the game room. 

"Did you really just steal my Yoshi?!" Hayden's voice screeches upstairs. 

"You threw your turtle at mine, so I'm taking yours!" Jax screams. 

"On accident!" 

"Because you're that dumb!" 

"Meh!" 

"Don't pet my face!" 

"Hey! Stop that! You like this!" 

"Don't pet my face!" 

"Well, you just killed my Yoshi, so who's the dumb one now?!" 

"The one petting my face so I can't see!" 

"I don't think so." 

Jax groans dramatically. I roll my eyes and head up the stairs. 

"Hayd, why are you petting Jax's face again?" I droll as I walk through the door. 

"He stole my Yoshi!" he accuses with a finger firmly pointed at Jax. 

"Yeah, well..." I pause and try to think of something responsible to say. "You're both twits so shut up and stare at the screen." I gave up. 

"You're such a nice sister," Hayden says, patronizing. 

"Damn straight. Now screen!" I scold. He rolls his eyes but both boys continue playing. Michael plops down on the couch next to me while I pull out my phone. 

"You're a great babysitter," he says. I smirk and flip him off without looking up from my phone. He leans to look over my shoulder. "What're you doing?"

"Texting Evan," I answer. 

"Oh. I know him. The dude Ash is doing his eye thing on?" 

"Yeah. He's kind of an idiot," I chuckle. "We're doing a project in my art class and have to pick an animal to paint, but not make it a realistic type of thing and include abstract patterns having to do with the animal. He's doing an emu." 

Michael's face scrunches up. "He wants to paint an emu?" 

"He says the emu war is upon us, so we must know all we can about our enemies to be." 

"The emu war is upon us?" he speaks slowly. 

I huff a laugh. "I don't know. He doesn't actually know. He heard there was an emu war and... I don't know... did his thing." 

"Seems like a weird guy..." 

"Yeah, he is," I giggle as my phone vibrates with a new text. 

_From: Evan_   
_the emu is the largest bird native to Australia. they could easily slaughter us all_

"Umm..." Michael drowns, looking over at the text. 

I shrug with a smile. "I told you he was weird." 

_From: Andi_   
_you also believe a duck is stalking you_

_From: Evan_   
_no... i said i believe i may have Anatidaephobia_

_From: Andi_   
_the fear that somewhere in the world a duck is watching you_

_From: Evan_   
_YOU NEVER KNOW_

_From: Andi_   
_guess what?_

_From: Evan_   
_what?_

_From: Andi_   
_quack._

_From: Evan_   
_don't be a bitch and_

_From: Andi_   
_my mommy says i can be whatever i wanna be if i set my mind to it_

_From: Evan_   
_your mother and i need to have a chat_

_From: Andi_   
_i'm done with you. i'm going to take this as a win. bye bye now!! xx_

I lock my phone and drop in on my lap. I can  _feel_  Michael's confusion. 

I turn to his lost expression. "May I help you?"

"Uhmm..." he starts. "Yeah, I don't know what to say about that one." 

"I hardly ever know what to say to him," I laugh. 

"You guys seem like good friends though," he says, his tone almost unnoticeably timid. 

"Yeah. He's fun and we get on well. Mainly because I put up with his weird shit, but..." I giggle. 

"That's nice." He goes quiet for a moment before apparently thinking of something to say. "What art class are you taking?" 

"Studio Design. Turns out Luke's in our class, too." 

"Oh, yeah. He dropped his Physics class and switched a few weeks ago." 

"What?!" I say with a suddenly bright smile. "He didn't tell me that! He said he'd been in the class the whole term! I mean, I didn't question why I never noticed him because apparently that's my thing. How did he manage to switch in the middle of the term?" 

"His teacher  _really_  hated him."

"Why?" I laugh. 

"We both went to the bathroom because we were bored and made a slip-n-slide." 

My eyes widen and I openly gape at him. "You made a slip-n-slide? In the school bathroom? How do you even do that?!" 

He shrugs. "Splash water on the tile. You can either penguin it or just slide across on your feet. But with the penguin, just make sure you have a change of clothes," he says firmly. 

"Wait, so did Luke just come back soaked and had to tell the teacher?" 

"No," he chuckled. "Water was spilling into the hallway under the door and he came into the bathroom. Wasn't too happy." 

"Yeah," I scoff. "I can imagine." 

"We're bored!" Hayden and Jax chorus from the ground. 

"No, you're playing video games. You are officially entertained," I say. 

"We're bored of video games," Jax huffs. 

"You're bored of video games?" I speak slowly. "This is a day I have to mark in my calendar." 

They both scowl at me and I give them a smirk back. Suddenly, Jax pulls off his tennis shoe, hurling it at me with determined eyes. It hits me on the forehead before I can block it and leaves a throbbing mark across my face. 

"Ow! Twerp!" 

"It was your fault." He shrugs. 

"How the f--rick... was it my fault?!" 

"Oooo! You said a bad word!" Jax taunts. 

"I did  _not_  say a bad word." 

"You almost did!" 

"You are  _lucky_  I have the control to hold all the words I am  _constantly_  wanting to say to you! Don't push it," I scold. 

"Hayden, your sister is being a brat," he moans, turning to my brother. 

"I know," he states in a bored tone. "But you know that as well as I do." 

"Can we  _please_  just do  _something_?!" Jax whines. 

"I don't know. What do you want to do?" I huff. 

"I don't know!  _You're_  the one watching  _us_!" 

"Why don't we build a fort?" Michael speaks up. 

"Yes!" Hayden yells. "I knew I liked you." 

Michael reaches over for a bump fist. Hayd eyes it for a moment, before giving in and tapping his fist against Mike's. He has a self-satisfied smile, as well as hint of something similar to... affection? 

"Now, what do we need to make this kickass fort?" he asks, excitedly rubbing his hands together. 

"Language!" I scold with a smile. 

"They're men. They can handle a little excited language," he says. 

"Yeah!  _Men_!" Hayden shouts, puffing out his chest with hands on his hips. He's trying to look tough, but really, he just looks like Kim Kardashian pouting. 

"You're a small man," I chuckle. 

"I can still take you down!" 

"Fight me!" I bark, slapping my hands against my chest. 

"You're so dumb," Jax groans. 

"I'm just going to let that one go," I say. "Now, are we doing the fort thing?" 

"Let's do it!" Michael barks, catching me off guard and making me jump back. He notices and smiles smugly at me. I stick my tongue out at him. 

"Can we have food in this fort?" Jax asks. 

"Yes!" Hayden yells excitedly. "Raymond! Go get us edible objects!"

"Excuse you," I sneer. 

He snaps into his puppy dog face and hangs his arms in front of his chest. "Pwease! Just a little snackies!" 

"Can we have brownies and ice cream?!" Jax shrieks. 

"We don't have brownie mix." 

"Can you go get some...?" 

I scowl at him before slumping my shoulders with a humph. "Yeah... Fine... Only because that sounds good!" 

"Yes!" both boys yell. "Thank you Raymond!" 

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." I turn to face Mikey with a bored face. "Mind watching them while I run to the store?" 

"Yeah," he says with a smile and a shrug. "I'm sure I can entertain them for a bit." 

"Thanks. Now you two," I start, standing up from the couch to tower over them. "If I come home and  _anything_  is either on fire or flooded, I will tie you to a tree and leave you there." 

They both stick their tongues out at me. They know better than to argue. They know I'm not kidding--I've done it before, and I'll do it again. 

"They'll be fine," Michael laughs. 

"You don't know," I mumble and walk out of the room. From down the hall I can hear Michael talking to them. 

"What's with Raymond?" 

"Her middle name is Rae," Hayd answers offhandedly. 

"Umm..." his voice fades out as I make my way downstairs, laughing to myself. 

I grab my keys and wallet and hea out the door. The closest market is only a few streets down, so I get there before the end of the first  _Sleeping With Sirens_  song. I unplug my phone from my speaker, replacing my headphones in the jack. 

I hum along to Kellin as I walk through the sliding doors. I spend more than a fair amount of time in this store and have since I was ten, so I walk on autopilot to the grocery ailsle, picking up two boxes of brownie mix and grabbing a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezers. I aslo may have picked up a tub of licorice before making my way to the counter, but that was just an after thought. 

I place the items on the counter and wait for an employee to make their way over to the cash register. The woman that walks over is named Maria. I think she is probably in her late twenties or so... I know she's been working here a long time, though. About five years ago, I was helping out at this summer camp and would walk up here every morning to get Mentos to basically bribe the kids with. After the third day in a row, she asked me what they were for. Since then, whenever she's working while I'm here, we'll say hi and chat and she gives me any discounts or coupons she can dig up. 

"Hey Andi!" she calls as she walks behind the counter with a kind smile. "How've you been?" 

"Good enough," I say. "How about you?" 

"I'm good. Just move into a new flat, so that's something." 

"Oh! That's fun! How are you liking it?" 

"Well, it's nice to get out of my little studio, that's for sure," she jokes. "This one has an actual bedroom and I don't have to worry about the oven light keeping me up all night." 

"You never figured out how to turn it off?!" I laugh. "That drove your electric bill up like crazy and you had to sleep with a blanket over your eyes every night!" 

"I know but I couldn't figure it out!" she laughs with me. "I even looked up the user manual online and the switch that was supposed to shut it off didn't exist!" 

"What do you mean it didn't exist?!" 

"There was no switch!"

"There has to be a switch!" 

"There was no switch, Andi!" 

"How can there be no switch?!" 

"Welcome to my world!" 

We both laugh at each other, probably loud enough to be heard on the other side of the store. We don't seem to care about that though, and continue joking around. 

"What are you girls doing?" Lawrence asks as he walks over to us. He was an elderly man but had the funniest sense of dry humor that you'd never expect from a tall and staut geezer like him, which only made it funnier when he cracked a joke about the most random thing. 

"Talk to her!" I laugh, pointing at Maria. "She's the one without the switch!" 

"Exactly! Because there is no switch!" she laughs. 

"I don't even want to know what you two think you're talking about," he jokes. 

"No! It's a literal switch!" 

"Okay," he chuckles. "Whatever makes you feel better. Just don't be blowin' my remaining ear drums out while squealing about the hottest boy band." 

I drop my jaw in mock shock. "Excuse me, but I have never squealed about any boy band. No one I associate myself with would either. I thought you would have known me better than that by now, Lawrence," I pout. 

"All I'm sayin' is that I stock those magazines, and anytime there are a few pretty boys on the cover, they sell faster than a knife fight in a phone booth." 

"Lawrence, I think that you're the one who thinks they're pretty," I tease. 

"Yeah... a secret guilty pleasure or somethin'?" Maria plays along. 

"Nah, nah, nah," he moans, dismissively waving his hands in front of us. "I'm not gonna let myself get roped into that situation. Been there, done that, will go back once I'm ten feet under and the end of the world couldn't roll me over." 

"I think it's six feet..." 

He gives me a mock challenging look. "There are certain people you want with a few extra feet between ya." 

Maria and I share a look before turning back to Lawrence. "Should we remember to add a few feet to your grave?" 

"Oh don't worry," he says, nodding is head absentmindedly. "They'll know." 

"Hmmm..." I hum. "Well, on that note, I have two little children being supervised by a large toddler. All are waiting for ice cream and I don't want to find out what will happen if they don't get it soon." 

"Oh, how is Hayden?" Maria asks as she starts scanning the items. 

"Good. My classmate is watching him and Jax right now. It wouldn't be a problem if one of those boys knew how to work a fire extinguisher." 

"Oooo... this 'friend boy' sounds fun," Maria comments and I roll my eyes at her. 

"Emphasis on 'friend'. If even that," I chuckle. "He's this guy from my school that hangs out at the same place as us so we talk." 

"Yeah, okay," Maria says, evident disbelief in her tone. "Remind me to ask you in a few weeks." 

"Okay, I'll just do that," I say. 

"Yeah, 'course," she laughs and hands me my bag and change. 

"I'll see you guys later," I call over my shoulder. I hear them laugh and tell me the same. I unlock my car with a lazy smile and plug my phone back in. 

A minute later, I'm pulling up in front of my house. The first thing I notice is a colorful ball of some sort being tossed high above the roof. I carry the things out of the car and set them down on the kitchen counter before walking outside. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" 

"Hey babe!" Michael calls from the roof. 

"What are you doing?!" 

"Water balloons! Duh!" Jax yells. 

"It's like twenty degrees!" 

"So?!" Hayden laughs. 

"So?! So it's cold and you're on the roof! Why the  _fuck_  are you on the roof?!" 

"Andi! Language!" Michael scolds, covering Hayden's ears before whisper yelling, "There are children here!" 

"Michael get you ass down here!" 

"We still have three balloons left!" 

"I don't give a shit!" 

"Can we at least use these?! Then we'll come down, I promise!" he begs and I let out a sigh.

"Fine! Hurry up!" 

He turns around and picks up the last balloons, handing one to each boys with one for himself. They all turn back around, passing the balloon around in their hands until Mike starts counting out, "One!" They hold the balloons in front of them. "Two!" They pull it behind their shoulders. "Three!" They launch them off the roof. 

I roll my eyes and start walking back into the house when I'm pelted with three balls of water. 

I hear the three absolutely dying from above and I flip around. 

"What the actual fuck?!" 

"Bullseye!" Hayden screams, high-fiving the the two. 

"That was so perfect!" Jax yells. 

"Sorry babe! That was just too great!" Michael laughs. 

"Clifford! You better watch your eyebrows!"

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

_I was so young. You should have known better than to lean on me. You never thought of anyone else. You just saw your pain. And now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing. Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk. Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt. Because of you, I try my hardest just to forget everything. Because of you, I don't know how to let anyone else in. Because of you, I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty. Because of you,_ _I am afraid._

_[«Because of You» Kelly Clarkson](https://youtu.be/Ra-Om7UMSJc) _

\-----

"Hey, guess what?" R asks, plopping down on the sofa between me and Luke. 

"Chicken butt!" Ash screams from the cushion on the floor in front of us. 

"You've been hanging around Hayden too much," I groan. 

"He is a cool kid," he laughs. I flip him off. 

"Anyways..." R drawls. "We learned about something cool in psychology today!" 

"What did you learn?" 

"Philophobia." 

I groan, throwing my head back again the couch. "We've been over this. I'm not philophobic." 

"Uhh... what is pillobia?" Ashton asks. 

"That wasn't even close, dude," Calum laughs, closing the fridge to join Ashton on the floor. 

"It's  _philophobia,"_ Luke says slowly. "It's the fear of falling in love." 

"How do  _you_  know that?" I ask. 

"I'm in the same class," he laughs. 

I turn to R with a dead stare. "We are  _seriously_  bad at this." 

She shrugs. "Not the point." 

"Right. The point is that I do not have philophobia," I huff. 

"Admit it!" R shrieks. "You are terrified to fall in love!"

"Why would you be afraid of falling in love?" Calum asks. I roll my eyes. 

"She had her heart broken before she knew her ABC's," R says bluntly. 

"I did not have my heart broken," I tell them. 

"Ripped to shreds."

"I was fine." 

"No she wasn't." 

"I'm fine." 

"No she's not."

"R is amazing." 

"Yes, she is." 

"Dammit!" 

"I'm not falling for that!" she chuckles. 

"Whatever," I groan. 

"Okay, wait," Ashton says. "So, what? This pillow word means just that... you're afraid to fall in love?" 

"Here," R chirps and pulls out her phone. "Let's just read what Google says."

"Can we not?" I moan. 

" _Philophobia is the abnormal, persistent and unwarranted fear of falling in love. The risk is usually when a person has confronted any emotional turmoil relating to love in the past. This affects the quality of life and pushes a person away from commitment. The worst aspect of fear of being in love and falling in love is that it keeps a person in solitude_." 

"So Andi's going to be forever alone? That's what this tells us?" Calum asks. 

"Fuck you all," I huff. 

"What traumatic thing made you so afraid to fall in love?" Ashton asks. 

"Is it something to do with your d--" 

"Luke!" R interrupts, but my ears caught the gist of what he was going to say next. I sit up straighter, nearly leaning over my lap. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"He's fine. He's being an idiot," R dismisses. 

"No... I know what he was going to say. Why would you say that?" I direct to Luke. 

"Never mind. I just took a shot. I don't know..." he says. 

"Wait, what? What did he say?" Calum asks. 

"Why would you say that?" I ask again, ignoring Calum. 

Luke looks like a deer in headlights and tries to stutter out, "I don't--I don't know! I just--I guessed!" 

"What did R tell you about?" 

"Nothing!"

I stare him down before rolling my eyes and sitting back with a scoff. 

"Anyways..." Calum continues. "Why don't you think you could have philiophobia?" 

"Because I don't!" I bark. 

"Well at least she has good reasons," Ashton states and I flip him the bird. 

"Well... what do you do about it?" Luke asks. 

"I mean, you kinda just have to work through it," R says. "Some people go to therapy, but mostly it's just something you have to do for yourself. It is kinda hard sometimes just because it's hard for the other person. Like, I'd get frustrated if the person I liked refused to like... like me I suppose. Plus, they won't put themselves out there long enough for anything to happen, for better or worse. And in Andi's case, she convinces herself that nothing is wrong, she's perfectly happy, and isn't broken. See, she lives in a delirious state of denial. Has for years. My biggest concern is that one day there will be this great guy for her and one of two things will happen. One," she counts off on her finger, talking to the guys as if I'm not even there. "She doesn't see what's happening or that there is anything going on because she has closed off her brain so much that her subconscious is protecting herself for her. Enough that she doesn't even have an opportunity to acknowledge or choose to feel the pain, because her body already knows whatever is happening up there is literally too painful for her to deal with. She's completely repressed every emotion; every memory." 

"How much pain does a person have to be in for their subconscious to hide their emotions instinctively?" Calum asks, thoughtfully. 

"Honestly, Andi doesn't even know. See, after years I've kinda figured it out a bit. She literally doesn't even know she's doing it. She has no idea how much pain she is in, because for years now, she hasn't been aware of any of it for the sake of her survival. Essentially, that's what it is--a survival instinct," R explains, and I allow her to go on, too absorbed myself to stop her. "But then the second outcome, well, honestly... the second scares me even more." 

"Okay... what's the second?" Luke prods. 

"Is that at some point or another, she  _will_  allow herself to develop a relationship with someone, and that will absolutely terrify her, but she may do it anyways. What I'm worried about is that if she does let her guard down and allows herself to feel something and care about someone else and rely on them for even the tiniest of things, but especially her heart, the dam will break because you can't feel something without feeling everything. When she numbs the bad, she numbs the good. The two go in tandem in both directions." 

"So what happens when the dam breaks?" Ashton asks quietly. 

"When the dam breaks, I'm terrified that it will break her." 

"What the fuck?" I speak up, my voice cracking. "And yes, I'm still here."

"We know," R says, compassion in her tone. 

"You do realize you've never actually told me any of this? That you thought this?!" I say, getting more and more upset for more reasons than one. 

She sighs and gives me her 'come on' look. "I've told you this time and time again. I've told you that you need to stop keeping it all inside because the longer you let it go, the harder you're going to break." 

"Who said I'm going to break?!" I snap. 

"Babe, you've kinda been put through your own personal hell." 

"Says who?!" I screech. "I'm fine! I've always been fine! I had a few hard times growing up, fine! But a lot of people do! I'm not the only one with divorced parents!" 

"You have a deadbeat dad who you basically take care of, at this point." 

"What?! He's not a deadbeat! He's having a rough time of his own!" 

"And you're supporting him while he deals with it! That's not your job!" R yells, sitting up to look at me. 

"He's my dad! I have to! I want to! Otherwise what will he do?! If I want a dad, this is what I have to do!" 

"No it's not! You may not see it, but no one can be put in your situation and not be broken!" 

"Plenty have been in worse situations and survived!" 

"Just because people have had it worse doesn't mean you can't have it bad!" 

"Without me, he'll be out on the streets! What do you want me to do?! He's my dad!" 

"Exactly! He's your parent! You're not supposed to be taking care of him! He's supposed to do that for you!" 

"Well I don't know what to tell you, because that's not exactly an option!" 

"And that's the problem!" she screams. "That's the problem and the longer you keep telling yourself it isn't, the worse it's gonna hurt when something happens and you have no choice but to face it." 

"What do you mean? What would make that happen?! And there's nothing for that to happen, anyways!" 

"Something will happen where you are forced to face the reality that your dad is not who he needs to be for you and no amount of effort on your part will ever be enough to change that," she explains calmly. 

"None of that is even how it is! I mean--that's not even what's happening!" 

"Babe, all I need you to hear from me is the same thing I've tried to get through your thick skull time and time again," she sighs. "Take his world off your shoulders and just try to carry your own, before you are crushed under the weight with no way of getting up."

"Okay, whatever. I have to go pick up Hayd and Jax from practice. I'll see you guys tonight," I huff. This isn't the first time we've had conversations just like this, and I know I'll cool down by the time I get back, but for now I get to be upset and try to convince myself none of what she just said is true. Again.

 


	19. Chapter 19

_Her feelings she hides. Her dreams she can't find. She's losing her mind. She's falling behind. She can't find her place. She's losing her faith. She's falling from grace. She's all over the place yeah._

_[«Nobody's Home» Avril Lavigne](https://youtu.be/NGFSNE18Ywc) _

\-----

"Hey, we still need dresses for formal, you know," R says, looking up from my lap. "It's in a week."

"Ugh!" I groan. "We really have to go?!"

"Yes," Calum says, not looking up from his phone.

"Why?" I drawl out.

"Because we are performing and you are going to support us," Luke says, lifting up R's legs before sitting down and placing them on his lap. "That's what friends are for."

"Who said we're friends?" I reply in a bored tone.

"Aww... Andi, we want to be your friends," Ashton chirps with a smug smile.

"A friendship is supposed to be a mutual thing, from what I'm told."

"Yes, but you only really have one friend," Calum points out.

"Fuck you, I have friends! I just don't like too many people in general, so friends are therefore limited," I snide.

"Name five friends," Calum scoffs. "And not just people you'll say hi to in the halls and shit."

"Fine. R," I start, ticking off on my fingers. "Candice. Evan. Um... well... there's..." I stutter. "Oh! Jax!"

"That doesn't count," Ashton laughs with a bigger smile than I would think appropriate for this situation. "He's your little brother's best friend."

"Fine! Well, Jax has an older sister that I talk to."

"Okay... I'd suppose I'll give you that one. Simply a pity count, but sure," Calum says. "What's her name?"

"Reina. She's sixteen."

"What school does she go to?"

"She's currently studying abroad in England for the term," I answer, smugly.

"Okay, I take it back. That doesn't count!" Ashton laughs again and I more than a little kinda want to slap him.

"Why wouldn't that count?!"

"She's in another country! You can't exactly be besties from across an ocean!"

"Why the fuck not?! I talk to her quite a bit, actually. We have a group chat with Jax and Hayd that we all use a decent amount."

"Interesting..." Luke mutters. "You text your brother and his friend? Like, frequently?"

"Yeah, why is that weird? We've all grown up together," I bark.

"Okay, okay," he defends, putting his hands up in surrender. "No need to get snippy."

"I'm not snippy!"

"It's okay," Luke pacifies.

"Whatever. Point is, Reina counts as a friend."

"Fine," Calum answers. "You have four."

"Okay... Oh!" I shout. "I'm pretty good friends with Ember."

"Ember Wells?" Luke asks. "She's in Studio Design with us, right?"

"Yeah. Which I have just learned you are in, by the way," I laugh.

"I've only been to one class so," he chuckles.

"You do realize the term ends in like... a few weeks, right?"

He shrugs. "I'm getting credit for the other class and I'll take the Art the next term, too. Just getting a head start."

"You're getting credit for a class you dropped out of three-fourths through the term?" I laugh.

"My teacher really wanted to get rid of me. He figured that was the only way without causing a huge ruckus," he says bashfully.

"Well okay then," I giggle. "But yes. She, I, and Evan all hang out together in that class. I also have her in my Health and Psych class."

"She seems kind of quiet, doesn't she?" Ashton asks.

I chuckle to myself. "I promise--once you get to know her, she is not quiet. She's actually a real goof."

"Hmm... Interesting. I'll have to see it with my own eyes next class," Luke comments.

"So, does that count as five?" I ask.

"Fine," Calum says, shrugging. "I will accept those as friendships."

"Ha! Take that, Clum!" I cheer.

"You won from semantics," he scoffs.

"Yeah, whatever," I huff.

"Anyways... back to formal!" R chirps. "You wanna go shopping today? It's only, what? Ten. This is the earliest we've been awake on a Saturday morning in ages. May as well take advantage of it."

"Yeah, fine," I grumble. "But I'm meeting with Mike later for the last bit of the project. It's due on Monday. I have most of what I need and a lot already written up, but I still want a tad bit more information."

"Where is Michael, anyways?" R asks.

"I think he's helping his mom with... something?" Calum says.

"Oh, well, whatever. But anyways, if we're actually gonna go, let's just go now and get it over with."

"That's the spirit!" R cheers.

"Yeah, okay," I chuckle.

"Hey... quick thought..." R says, sitting up from my lap, leaving her legs draped across Luke's. "Would you guys want to come with and give us opinions?"

They all loudly groan in unison.

"Oh, come on. It's not like you really have to do anything. We'll just be trying on stuff and you tell us what you think."

"Hmm... sitting around in shops watching you two play dress up..." Calum mock ponders.

"Yep. Sounds like the third level of Hell," Ashton remarks.

"Okay, well guess what?" R snipes. "It's no longer an option. You're coming."

"Ugh!" the moan.

"You can't make us!" Ashton argues.

"Try me," she growls.

They try to stare her down before accepting defeat with a huff.

"Fine," Ash sighs.

"Actually, I legitimately can't," Luke says.

"Why not?" R asks, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

"I'm taking a final type thing for Chemistry at one."

"What? Why?" I ask.

"It's the conditions for me switching classes and getting credit."

"Okay," R pouts. "What time do you get out? Maybe we can pick you up?"

"Probably three-ish," Luke guesses.

"Sounds good. That gives us just enough time to get everything together and be there when you're finishing up."

Luke smiles. "Perfect."

R smiles back at him before leaning in and giving him a... decently big kiss. Her fingers thread through his hair and she nips at his lips before pulling back with a goofy grin.

"Perfect. See you later, babe," R says and gives him one more quick peck before hopping up and grabbing her purse

I turn to see both boys gawking at Luke while he sits looking smugly content.

"Woah, woah... woah," Ashton stumbles. "What was that?"

"It's called a kiss. You should try it some time," R chuckles.

"Care to explain why you just kissed Luke?" Calum prods.

"It's been going on for a while." R shrugs.

"Why weren't we informed of this?" Ash asks.

"Honestly, we figured you guys would have figured it out by now," she laughs. "And if not, well this would help you put it together."

"Luke?!" Calum shrieks.

He shrugs and laughs at the group of jaw-dropped boys. "Figured you'd figure it out."

"Andi! Why don't you look surprised?"

I nonchalantly shrug and roll my eyes. "Doesn't surprise me. I know R. I knew it would happen sooner or later. She wasn't exactly great at hiding her drooling all over him."

"Yeah, not gonna lie. I mean, you've seen him," R says. I look over to see Luke blushing and fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"Aww... Is Lukey embarrassed?" I tease, reaching over and poking his rosy cheek. He cringes away, swatting my finger from his face.

"Hey! Don't be a butt," R scolds, but I simply laugh it off.

"Okay, well, are we gonna go and get this over with?" Calum sighs. "I don't want to have to get into how Lukey is all flustered."

"Yeah, I'm ready," R chirps, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She walks over and bends to peck Luke once more and starts towards the window.

Calum and Ash are looking at Luke in question.

"You already know. No point in not showing it now," he explains.

The boys just shake their heads and begrudgingly get up and follow R out, me right behind.

"Bye, Lukey!" I call over my shoulder. I hear his faint groan as I start down the fire escape.

We all pile into the van, taking our usual positions, regardless of the boys' complaining. I plug in my phone but allow the music to be set low enough for more of background noise.

"Where do we want to go?" R asks.

"Why don't we go to the little garment district thing?"

"Sounds good!" she agrees.

"Perfect! That way I can actually get something more than a towel without resulting in me begging for change on the street corner," I laugh.

"What other expenses do you have to cough up?" Calum chuckles and I tighten my grip on the wheel. "Unless it's more paint cans. But, I mean, you don't really need more at the moment. There's hardly room for anything else in there, as it is."

"Nothing. Never mind," I mumble. Everyone seems to drop the subject and I let out a relieved sigh.

It takes us about twenty minutes before we get there and find a place to park. It's a lot easier to just walk from place to place.

"Okay, so," Ashton says, clapping his hands together. "What exactly do we do now?"

"Well," I laugh. "We find dresses, you tell us on a scale from 'make it stop' to 'how can I get that off' and we purchase the best."

"Okay," Calum say. "Sounds like a plan."

"Perfect!" I chirp and lead them to the first promising place.

R and I immediately head to the formal section and sift through a rack of dresses. The first that catches my eye makes me laugh and I pull it out to show R. She looks over and immediately starts cracking up.

"You would rock that camo, babe," she laughs.

I hold it up to myself, striking a pose. "This dress was made for me."

"'No' was 'make it stop', right?" Ashton mutters to Calum from behind me and I turn around to them.

"You don't like this? Too wild for you? I thought you boys would be into down 'n dirty," I chuckle darkly, shooting them a tauntingly suggestive smirk.

Both of their faces turn red in seconds and they stutter, at a complete loss of words. R and I laugh at them and put the dress back, continuing browsing the selection.

"Hey, And. How about this?" R asks and I look over to see her holding up a black lacy maxi dress, a black collar that cuts off deep and leaves the chest bare in the center before extending out to the long lace sleeves. Only the torso and a quarter of the thighs covered with a plain black; lace with a leg slit reaching to touch the ground. My jaw drops as she holds it up to her.

"That is absolutely gorgeous," I gawk.

"I love this!" R gushes, pulling it back to admire it more.

"You have to get that. There's no question."

"Well, let's find a dress for you and we'll try them on before I shell out the cash," she chuckles.

"Deal," I giggle along with her.

She hands the dress to Calum to hold, turning back before he has a chance to protest. We look through a few more racks, finding a few dresses that could work, but nothing that wowed us. There was a black bodycon dress, a sleek maroon maxi with a bit of sewn embellishments around the sweetheart neckline, and a black and white overlapping strip dress. We must have scoured half the store before R turns to me with a dropped jaw and a shimmer in her eyes. She pulls out a navy blue lace, high neck, sleeveless, bodycon maxi dress. The chest is covered in solid fabric and cuts off until the hips and continues down to the top of the thighs.

"That is incredible," I breathe, reaching out to thread the fabric through my fingers.

"This is it," R states. "Let's go try 'em on and buy these suckers!"

"Sounds like a plan!" I laugh giddily.

"Does that mean we don't have to hold these anymore?" Calum asks, lifting the bundle of dresses in his hands.

"Yes," I chuckle. They groan and drop them on the floor right where they stand, not bothering to even throw them over a rack.

"Okay, we are gonna go change while you two put those away," R laughs, causing the boys to groan, this time, even louder.

"We'll be back," I chirp and follow R to the dressing rooms.

We both take a room and quickly change out of our clothes, laughing at hearing each other struggle to get the zippers up before just getting out and doing them for each other. When we finished adjusting everything, we look up to face each other, both of our jaws dropping as soon as our eyes catch sight of the other.

"Damn, we're hot," R gawks. I laugh at her awe struck expression.

"Honestly, I doubt we need the boys' opinions on this one," I chuckle.

"No. But let's show them anyways," R says slyly, winking as she turns back towards the main store. I laugh with a shake of my head and follow behind her. "Hey, guys!" she yells as they come into view. They both turn on their heels to face us. Suddenly, their eyes are popping out of their sockets with their mouths hanging open. R and I giggle at their fish-mouthing and turn for different poses.

"So, whattya think?" I ask.

They remain gobsmacked as they try to form a response.

"Um, yeah--yeah," Ashton stutters, a flush quickly rising up his neck. "You look--um, just, well--yes."

"Thank you," I laugh. "Calum?"

"Yeah--what Ashton said. Nice. Like--yeah," he mutters, trying to shrug casually, only to look like a spazzing octopus with a twitch.

"Flattering will get you everywhere," R teases.

We laugh and leave the boys stunned to quickly change back out of the dresses. Once we are all finished paying for the dresses, we give the boys slaps over the head and pile back into the van.

"I think that was a successful trip," R chirps as she buckles her seat belt.

"I would have to agree," I chuckle. When the boys have slammed the back door shut and I am about to pull out, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I leave the break on and pull it out.

_From: Dadi_   
_Hey hun, just a little reminder rent is due Friday_

I huff a laugh and type my response.

_From: Andi_   
_yeah, I know dad. I've got it all ready._

_From: Dadi_   
_Perfect love! I was also wondering if you could spot me two hundred extra? There was a mix-up and I came up short._

I take a deep, slow breath and try to keep my burning eyes from spilling their quickly forming tears.

_From: Andi_   
_two hundred? What kind of mix-up?_

_From: Dadi_   
_Nothing to worry about. Just a little set-back_

I bite down hard on my lip.

_From: Andi_   
_Yeah. Course. I'll have it._

_From: Dadi_   
_Thank you dear! I love you_

_From: Andi_   
_Love you too_

I lock my phone, watching as the screen goes black and squeezing my eyes shut. I give myself a minute to calm down before giving up and chucking the phone across the car and into R's lap.

I can feel three sets of eyes on me, but I try to block them out, tightening my grip on the wheel. After a moment, I breathe out and shift the car into drive, pulling out in silence. The quiet and tense atmosphere remains for a few minutes before R breaks the peace.

"Babe, are you okay?" she asks softly.

"I'm fine," I say.

"No you aren't," she states. "Will you tell me why? Who texted you?"

"Doesn't matter. Just something I have to take care of."

"Okay," R sighs, knowing better than to try to get it out of me right now. No doubt that she will try later, but at least I don't have to deal with it right this moment.

"Hey, babe. Do you have any gum?" R asks, trying to move on and be casual, already leaning to open the glove compartment in front of her where we keep anything and everything in.

"Yeah, I should. I still have some of the mint IceBreaker things, I think."

"NOICE!" She continues ruffling through all the shit shoved in there and I turn my attention back to the road. "Wait... And, what's this?" she asks, concern more than laced in her voice. I look over to her once again and I hope the blood draining from my face isn't obvious.

"My medicine," I state as casually as I can, barely glancing at the small pill bottle in her hand.

"I know. Why is it still full?" she prods.

"I just got it refilled."

"No you didn't. This is dated from a month ago," she scolds.

"Yeah, well, I think I just put some of my new meds in that bottle so I could keep some at my house."

"Andi, you haven't been taking your meds." She's not asking.

"Okay, yeah, so? I missed a few days."

"This isn't a few days. This is a month!"

"Okay, maybe... But no need to freak out about it," I mumble.

"What do you mean there's no need to freak out about this?! Andi, you know even better than I do what happens if you skip out on your medicine."

"Yeah. I do. So it's my choice if I decide not to take them."

"Unless you're not making the right choice! Babe, these were working, weren't they?! Is this why you've been painting even more than usual, recently?"

"Hey, it's a better way to cope than the alternatives, isn't it?!" I cry.

"It is if it's paired with your meds! Otherwise it's just another form of your whole avoidance numbing thing!"

"I don't need meds! I'm not a fucking mental patient!" I scream. "I was fine before and I'm fine now!"

"You're not fine! I've told you that! Your doctors have told you that! Everyone who talks to you can tell you're not perfectly fine!"

"What the fuck does that mean?! Are you saying I come off as a psycho every time I talk to someone!"

"No! It means people can tell you're not happy! You're not okay! You're not fine!"

"Who said I'm not happy?!"

"These!" she yells, shaking my pill bottle violently.

"All those things do is mess with my head and confuse what is happening in my head until I can't tell who I am anymore!"

"That's what these meds do! They straighten out how your mind is used to functioning! It's going to be strange or foreign and scary!"

"Exactly! It changes who I am!"

"No! It doesn't! It changes who you've become," she sighs, softening her tone. "It changes the person you became and hid who you really are."

"That's not true! It's taking who I've always been and changing it into something else!"

"It's taking back who you were and who you are supposed to be!"

"Don't tell me who I'm supposed to be! I'm not 'supposed to be' anyone!"

"You're supposed to be happy! You're not supposed to have to deal with all of this on a daily basis!"

"I am happy and I've always dealt with this every day of my life! I don't know what to be without it!" I shout at the top of my lungs.

"Then why not give it a chance and see who you could be!"

"Because it fucking terrifies me to think that I could be anyone else than what I thought I was!" I yell, my voice cracking and I feel the first tear fall down my face. R sighs heavily and leans back in her seat.

"I can't imagine what it feels like to be so confused in your mind every second of every day. I don't and I never will. I do know, though, that this is something no one wants to be. No one wants to be a series of contradictions and never knowing who you are or what you're supposed to be."

"Yeah, well, one thing I know for certain," I snap. "The world is not known for giving what is wanted. Or ideal. Or happy."

"Babe--" R sighs and I'm tired of talking about this.

"No. Stop. We are gonna go pick up Luke, I'll drop you all off at the warehouse, and I'm going to go finish my project. This conversation is over," I huff and everyone goes silent.

No one says anything for the rest of the ride.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the asterisk * means important song 
> 
> seriously listen to the song as well as the next because they be importanté xD

_But time cannot heal what you will never recognize._

_[«Just A Little Girl» Trading Yesterday*](https://youtu.be/7aWqx6cmIrs) _

 

\-----

"Hey, you ready?" Michael asks when I open the door. 

"Yeah," I mumble distractedly. "We're gonna, uh, go somewhere else." 

"What?" he asks but I ignore him to step out of the house and close the door behind me.

"Yeah. I just don't, um, wanna be home, right now," I answer. 

"Okay..." he says and starts following my brisk steps to my car. "We can go to the warehouse..." 

I throw myself in the driver's seat and turn up the heater. "No. No warehouse," I suddenly snap. I see Michael flinch in the corner of my eyes "I want to be somewhere else. Nothing with four walls around me." 

"Okay," Mike breathes, obviously just trying to pacify me, at this point. I don't blame him. "We can go anywhere you want." 

I just nod and start the car, driving down my street in silence. The only sounds I can hear are the steady breaths of warm air coming out of the fans, the low rumble of the weathered engine, and the smooth but grainy sweeps of the tires pushing off the ground. 

"Hey, you okay?" Michael asks after a few minutes. 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine." 

"You sure? You seem a little frustrated." 

"Yes," I breathe. "Just a little stressed." 

"Anything I can help with?" he asks warily. 

"No," I say before muttering under my breath, "Not unless you can pull two hundred bucks out of thin air." 

The car falls silent again, and I focus on calming my heart beats. I take slow and steady breaths, holding it in my chest before breathing the last bit of air out of my lungs. By the time we are about five minutes away, I am able to think straight without edging toward a panic attack. 

"Why do you need two hundred dollars?" 

Michael's voice makes me jump, having gotten used to the silence and calming my head. I hadn't realized I had said that loud enough for him to hear. 

"Don't worry about it," I tell him. 

"I mean... That's just a good chunk of cash to be desperate for," he goes on. 

"I'm not desperate," I snap, harsher than I should be towards him. He's just trying to be a friend. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Honest," he quickly stutters out. 

I take another deep breath. "I know. Sorry. Just still on edge." 

"Seriously, though. I mean, I have some money laying around, if you really need it." 

"I don't need charity," I deadpan. "I've managed this for years and I've always figured it out--no donations necessary." 

"What do you mean? What do you need two hundred dollars for that you've been doing for years?"

Can't he just drop it? Doesn't he know someone's money troubles is not exactly casual conversation to have with just anybody?

"Is that really your business?" I snap again. This time, he's a tad more deserving of it. 

He huffs, frustrated--though I don't see why. He's the one not letting it go. 

"You know, it's okay to talk to people. To let them in, just an inch. I've let you pick me apart for a stupid project without blinking an eye--something I'm not known for doing. It'd be nice if I could get a fraction in return. That's kind of how relationships are supposed to work, you know. Not just one sided." 

"This is not a relationship," I spit back without a second thought. 

He's quiet for a second before groaning, "That's not what I meant. Relationship can mean between friends." 

"I don't like that word." 

"Well I think that says more about you, than me," he says, blunt. 

I turn to him. "Excuse me?" 

"I don't need to repeat myself." 

"Who do you think you are?" I sneer, incredulous. 

"What? You can get frustrated and snap at me and I can't give it back? You can't just bully me into submissiveness. That's not how a  _relationship_  works," he says. 

"I can do whatever the hell I want, and you haven't seemed to have a problem with the way this  _relationship_  works before," I spit. 

"That's another thing," he says, mock pondering. "How does this relationship work? Is this like a friends with benefits thing?"

I physically lean away from him. "What? What the fuck? No." 

"Well I don't what else to call it. We act like friends until you start sucking face." 

"Oh, I suck your face?" I scoff. 

"Well you certainly don't reject it." 

"Where the fuck is this coming from?" 

"Maybe from the fact that you treat me like your lap dog with lips!" 

"Again--you haven't exactly been complaining till now!" I shout. 

"I'm not asking you to go steady or shit, just wondering how you see this situation. Maybe clear up your little mood swings!" he yells back. I don't know how we ended up in a heated argument about our  _relationship_ , but I'm not a fan of a PMSing Michael. 

" _My_  mood swings? Take a look in the mirror! At least I have an explanation!" 

"Oh, really?! Please enlighten me with this all-telling  _explanation_!" he spits. 

"It's none of your fucking business!" I snap, raising my voice louder than I've let it get in a long time. I can feel my reins loosening, but I don't have a moment to think to stop it. 

He throws his hands up in the air, letting out an incredulous scoff. "You shitting me?! I don't get to know why you act like a great and fun and funny chick one moment and fucking mental patient the next?!" 

I feel my hear stutter in my chest and eyes get hot. 

"Don't you fucking  _dare_  call me that!" 

"Why not?! Isn't that what you act like?! You say you don't want to wake up," he says, counting off on his finger. "Half of the time, you don't even seem to be there, just numbly moving through life. You run away and avoid anything that might make you feel  _anything_. You seem to blow up out of  _nowhere_. You can sleep days on end, but get maybe six hours most nights, and you act like you can pass out where you stand regardless of either. You, yourself, even complain how you have the attention span of a squirrel, sometimes. There are times when you can't remember what you were doing an hour ago. We'll be having a conversation and you'll  _insist_  you've already told me about when you've never so much as mentioned it. You only seem to trust R--one person in this entire world--and even then, there seem to be moments when you're guarded around her, and my opinion is because that way, it isn't real. Not to mention, you act like you'd literally die if you ever didn't have her. You have freaky nightmares about everyone in your life abandoning you only to turn around and  _haunt_  you, or whatever that shit is. You say you've gotten help, but still seem to have every fucking problem you insist you fixed. And you have these fucking mood swings where you're attacking me and then acting as if it never happened! What else am I supposed to take from that?!" 

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep myself from purposefully crashing the car into the road dividers. I can feel one of my headaches creeping up and my breathing picking up, once again. I want to scream until my lungs collapse as I throw Michael out the window. 

"I'm not a fucking mental patient! I'm not! I don't care what you say! One little thing doesn't mean I belong in a crazy shack!" I scream. 

"Okay, fine then! How about crazy pills?! They make those, you know! Help you keep your head screwed on straight!" 

"You fuckard! I don't need fucking pills! I'm not a psycho! I'm not fucking crazy!" I cry, not caring if the tears are escaping my eyes. 

"I don't know what else to tell you! I don't know what else to do! You won't tell me anything! All you say is you're not  _mental_! You can't tell me anything else! That doesn't help me much, now does it?!" 

"Stop it!" I wail. "Why do you have to know everything about me?!" 

He groans and shoves his hands into his hair, tugging harshly. "Because I'm so frustrated! I have no idea what's going on and believe it or not, you're kinda important to me! But you act like this bitch sometimes and I have no idea why or what to do!" 

"Then why are you still here?! If I'm such a fuck up, why are you here?! Why are you with me?!" 

"Because you keep pulling me back in and I have no idea why or how to escape your freaky claws! But you won't let me in--even a centimeter! I just want to actually know what's going on in your head so maybe some of this will make sense!" he shouts. 

"Then go Google some disorders if you're so fucking desperate to get into my head! Go read all about it for yourself! Don't fucking come to me and expect me to pour out all of my demons at the snap of a finger just because you tell me you care about me and want to know me! I don't need you! You fucking don't need me! You  _know_  you could walk away and not bat your eyes! You could walk away from me and never look back! We both know that!" 

"I'm here trying to work out some  _relationship_  with you?! Do you not understand that?!" 

"I don't need a  _relationship_  with you! Do you know why I hate that word?! It's a word with an expiration date! It doesn't mean the cliché forever! It means it can exist and it can end!" 

"Why are you so certain that things end?! Not everything ends!" 

"Bullshit!" 

"What about R?! Will you two end?!" 

"Yes! One day we'll grow apart and I'll be without her and that will be  _my_  end! Endings are the only thing I can count on! Everything else can't be trusted!" 

He shakes his head with a hard look focuses out the window. 

"Go to the warehouse," he says, monotone. 

"What?! No! I told you--" 

"I said go to the fucking warehouse!" he shouts the loudest I've ever heard him. I scold myself as I timidly turn on my blinker and change lanes leading towards our home. 

My lip continues to tremble the whole way there. When we finally pull up beside the building, my face is silently drenched and flushed. I don't have time to take out the keys before Michael is slamming the door shut and stalking up the fire escape. I scramble to follow after him, feeling so suddenly submissive and helpless and I hate it. I don't even know why. 

"Michael! What the fuck is happening?!" I mentally scold myself for allowing my voice to tremble and sound so weak. How the roles changed so suddenly and forced me into this shivering little girl, my mind can't seem to catch up with. 

He doesn't answer, so I shakily start climbing after him. I manage to catch up to him, having had plenty more practice with the steps now memorized to the point of automatically blindly moving up the staircase. 

I know he sees me behind him, but he makes no acknowledgement of it and throws himself through the window without a word. Frustration starts to build back into my chest and these ever changing moods between us are maddening. Or maybe it's just me. 

"Michael! What the fuck are you doing?!" I shout once I step through the window. I ignore the stunned faces of our friends littered around the room and keep my focus on the blue-headed boy violently throwing his guitar straps over his shoulder in the corner. 

"Guys, we're doing the song," he orders. The boys look around at each other for an explanation, coming up blank. 

"We aren't planning on recording until next week, I thought. We still have to work out the kinks in the bridge," Luke stutters. 

"I don't give a fuck about the fucking bridge. Get the camera and start playing," he barks. R and I stand there watching as the band scrambles to their feet and follow out Mike's orders with panicked expressions. 

They get their instruments set up, the camera poised on a tripod in front of them. Luke moves to his usual spot on the center mic when Michael steps in front of him. 

"I'm doing lead," he deadpans. 

"What? We haven't rehearsed that," Luke manages to say. 

"I don't give a damn," Michael says and goes about readjusting the mic to his height. 

"Okay, what's going on, mate?" Calum speaks up. 

"Just play the fucking song!" Michael shouts. The boys share a look but readjust to the new arrangement and take their positions. 

"Um, R, could you...?" Luke shyly asks, nodding towards the camera. 

"Oh--uh, yeah, okay," my best friend stutters out and snaps out of it enough to walk over to press the record button and motion for the boys to start. 

"Okay, guys. Little different and little spontaneous performance, so forgive some mistakes. This just needs to be done right now," Michael says with a fierce but bland tone at the camera. "Okay. Here we go. This is  _Just A Little Girl_  by  _Trading Yesterday_."

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again-- the asterisk * means important song. 
> 
> LISTEN!!!

_I wish I knew you when eyes were white and innocent. If I could cut through time, I'd hold you close, make you mine._

_[«Unbreak» Ryan Star*](https://youtu.be/n4xuHetLqJ0) _

\-----

"Okay. Here we go. This is _[Just A Little Girl](https://youtu.be/7aWqx6cmIrs)_  by  _Trading Yesterday_." 

The boys all start strumming, creating a soothing and slow tone that takes a bit of the edge of the room off with the first chord. 

Michael starts, focusing on his eyes on his strumming. 

" _You never cared to hear the other side. So why would you care to keep this thing alive? You paint me into the memory of all your pain. But I will not be drawn into the past again_."

" _Cause all of this is all that I can take. And I could never understand the demons that you face. So go ahead and bat your eyes and lie right to the world. For with everything you are, you're just a little girl_.

" _I never meant for you to feel this way. The Decembers were never meant to be our graves. It's not a question of who is wrong and what is right. But time cannot heal what you will never recognize_." 

The rest of the boys join in with back-ups in the chorus, trying to keep up with the new harmonies and chords. I can see the confusion and worry in their eyes with every beat as they play into the bridge.

" _So go ahead and cry, go ahead believe that you were right. To keep away the dark. To help you sleep tonight. (Go on and decide. Who is wrong, what is right. Cause you know inside...)_ "

Calum, Ashton, and Luke keep shooting each other wary looks as they continue on with Michael's lead.

" _Cause all of this is all that I can take. And I could never understand the demons that you face. So go ahead and bat your eyes and lie right to the world. For with everything you are. Cause all of this is all that I can take. And I could never understand the demons that you face. So go ahead and bat your eyes and lie right to the world. For with everything you are, you're just a little girl_."

_Michael's POV_

Her tears are streaming harder when I look back up from my guitar. She still has on that stubborn look like she's still trying to be strong, but her lip is trembling and her eyes are terrified and hurt and broken. The gold glint is smaller and dulled, but I can still see it from here. She has spent hours studying my eyes, but I have spent hours watching her's. They change slightly with her mood. They are wider and brighter when she's happy. They are hooded and dull when she's not. I've come to know the latter more, but even so, there is always that hint of gold. 

"What was the point of that, Michael?" she tries to say, but her strong tone wavers and her voice breaks. Her fists are clenched and trembling by her side and her lip, harshly bit. 

I hold her gaze and take in a deep breath. I could do this. My only problem is if I should do this. Could she take it? I may not know the details, but I know enough to know that she is broken in more ways than one; more than she is aware of. All the theories in my head for why are simply theories, but they're enough to convince me that there is something to fix. I know she's terrified of feelings and getting close and trusting, but isn't that the cliché broken hearted girl you see in all the movies? And they always think they're on their own. Alandria is anything but cliché, but she  _is_  a broken hearted girl with a guy willing to heal her. 

"Michael! What was the point of that?!" she repeats. I swallow hard and take a breath. 

"We're different kinds of artists. We both know the world can be a shitty place. We both have ways of making our own parts of it better. You use spray cans. I use music. But I also know we both tend to hear words better with a melody," I sigh, trying to let out the tension in my shoulders through my breath. It doesn't work. I stand staring back at her for a moment before I work up the ability to move and turn to face the boys. They all rush to follow my huddle. 

"What  _in-the-fuck_  is happening?" Calum spits, no anger in his voice; just confusion. 

"We're not here to have a powwow, right now," I tell them. "Okay, we've messed around with this song a bit a while ago so I just want you guys to follow my lead and keep up the best you can." 

"Wait--" Luke stops me as I turn away. "What song?" 

"Just follow my lead," I order and walk to the front, resuming my position while hearing the rest of the boys doing the same behind me. 

I give one look over my shoulder to make sure they're ready and one look to Andi before looking down and focusing on my fingers lightly strumming the guitar. I take a deep breath once I have the rhythm and open my mouth for the first verse. 

" _I wanna know your whole skin, every mark, every inch. I wanna heal your pain, don't be scared, let me in. Lay yourself down, I will comfort you, I will comfort you. Until the stars fall around us_."

I hear the rest of the boys starting to join in and the melody gets stronger. Calum and Luke join in on background vocals by the chorus.

" _For every dream that you lost, every tear that it cost. I will, I will unbreak you. All the pain that you feel, let this moment be real. I will, I will unbreak you. I will undo the hurt 'til it feels like I'm the first. I will unbreak you_." 

My voice gets caught in my throat as I start the next verse before I gather myself and push through. 

" _I wish I knew you when eyes were white and innocent. If I could cut through time, I'd hold you close, make you mine. Stay where you are, and I will come for you, I will comfort you. Until the stars fall around us._ "

The chorus repeats and I feel my eyes get hot as I look into hers. My singing grows more powerful and I feel almost lightheaded with all the emotions I feel pulsing through my lungs. I feel like I could walk on water. I feel like I am drowning. I feel like I could run a hundred miles. I feel like I could collapse where I stand. 

" _For every dream that you lost, every tear that it cost. I will, I will unbreak you. All the pain that you feel, let this moment be real. I will, I will unbreak you_."

I close my eyes and focus all my attention on expressing the lyrics with every molecule of my body while trying to keep my lungs from collapsing or throwing up on the mic. 

" _We can make it alright, you and me here tonight. I will, I will unbreak you. For every dream that you lost, every tear that it cost. I will, I will unbreak you. I will undo the hurt 'til it feels like I'm the first. I will unbreak you_."

I keep my eyes closed as the music fades out. I take a deep breath and try my best to pull myself together. 

When I open my eyes, Andi is staring right back at me. Her lips are pressed tight to keep them from trembling, but the tears streaking down her cheeks give away her emotions, regardless. 

We all stand silent and still, the weight of the air now heavy and keeping up in place, terrified what would happen to disrupt the atmosphere. 

It feels like hours--a lifetime--before Andi opens her mouth to speak. She closes it and forces it back open before she is able to force the words from her lips. 

"I don't know what you want me to say," she heaves, her voice strained, thick, and broken. 

My expression remains as I breathe out, "Just say the first thoughts in your head. Just come out and say what you are actually thinking; actually feeling." I leave the words hanging in the air before whispering a hoarse, "Please." 

She sucks in a stuttered and shaky breath. "I can't feel anything." 

I breathe out a humorless laugh. "Could've fooled me." 

"I can't. I can't do it," she strangles out. "I can't do it to myself." 

"What do you mean you can't do it to yourself?" 

"I mean I can't risk that torture. That torture that always comes with feeling," she trembles. 

"Some feelings are good, you know," I say softly. 

"I can't live in some golden fantasy," she breathes, shrugging with sad eyes. Always sad eyes. "Nothing gold can stay." 

"I've read that book, too, you know. It's been years, but from what I remember, there's another quote in the end.  _Stay gold_."

"It's a fantasy. It's wishful thinking. It's false hope. And in the end, all that does is crush you when reality sets in." 

"Part of being human is hurting and learning."

"I've hurt. I learned that the world is a harsh place with delusional happiness. Living in reality saves you from having to run straight into it, having it throw you down with a thud." 

"But, And," I sadly chuckle. "You're not living in reality. You've created your own fantasy." 

She huffs a laugh. "You think this is my fantasy?" 

"Yes, which is a hard thing to think about, because that means your reality is even worse. You deny the pain, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your bubble protects you from everything that is broken and slowly suffocating you." 

"I'm fine," she snaps. 

"No, you're not." 

She rolls her eyes and pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes with a shaky sigh. "Michael, stop. I can't do it, okay. I appreciate the thought that you think you can fix me or whatever. But I can't, okay?" 

"Take a chance," I sigh. 

"I can't risk taking a chance." 

"You can trust me, you know." 

"The only thing worth trust is the end. It's the only thing that will always come through for me. I can only rely on endings of everything." 

"Please. Let me be there for you," I beg. 

"I can't," she whimpers, frantically shaking her head. "I just can't, okay?! I just gotta go," she mutters and begins to turn away, hurrying towards the window. 

"And, just stay," I sigh, reaching out towards her. 

She shakes her head again. "I'll see you guys at school. I just have to escape everything for a little bit. Bye." 

She's ducks through the window before I can say another word.

 


	22. Chapter 22

_You can't tell me to heal. And, it hurts remembering how it felt to shut down. You can't be too careful anymore._

_[«Careful» Paramore](https://youtu.be/2SAbGvMTs3E) _

\-----

"Ha! I will destroy you!" I laugh and roll up another paper ball. 

"Ha! Ha! That's funny," Evan laughs and chucks one across the table, bouncing it off my forehead. 

"You little shit!" I yell and throw one back at him while he's distracted in trying to hit Ember. 

"You're wasting paper!" she laughs, using her arms as a shield and trying to throw balls through the X. 

"This is two against one! S'not fair!" he complains. 

"Oh, too bad!" I launch another ball at him. "You started it!" 

"Okay, this means war!" he grunts and tries to dodge the flying ammo while he grabs something from his backpack. When he sits back up, he has a huge handful of tinfoil. He takes a chunk and balls it up, chucking it right between my eyes. 

"Ow! What the fuck?!" I shout. 

"Why do you have so much tinfoil in your bag?" Ember laughs. 

He shrugs with a straight face. "I kinda just collect it in there." 

"Why?!" 

"For times like this! Duh!" 

"I'm never giving you my scrap tinfoil ever again," I spit. 

"You give him tinfoil? Where do you get tinfoil?" she chuckles. 

"Lunches and stuff. He always wants it and, I mean, I'm not gonna use it." 

"I have no response to that," she laughs. 

"Probably a good idea," he chuckles. 

"Hey, guys," Luke says, coming up beside the table. "Mind if I join you?" 

"When did you get in this class?" Evan asks. 

"Well, good morning to you, too," Luke quips back. 

"Hey, just asking," he defends. 

"It's because he's more interested in slip-n-slides than Physics. Let's just leave it at that," I butt in, not wanting to get into the story again. 

"Yeah, but I'm still in Chemistry, so it's not like I'm not taking any sciences." 

"Why were you taking double science?" I ask with disgust. 

He looks down at his shoes, shuffling his feet shyly. "My mom made me," he mumbles. 

All three of us can't help but start laughing as a blush creeps up his neck. 

"Awww," I mockingly coo. "Poor Lucas." 

"Whatever," he scoffs. "Can I sit here?" 

"I don't know," Evan says, trying to contain a smile. "Are you sure you're allowed? Wouldn't want to get you grounded." 

We all burst into another round of laughter. Luke just rolls his eyes and takes the seat next to Evan, across the table from Ember. 

"Well, now you have no choice," he chirps. 

"Well, welcome," I say, overly dramatic. 

"Thank you," he greets back. 

We continue chatting, spending at least ten minutes having Evan explain the emu war situation to Luke, ending with Ember and I in tears of laughter. About five minutes after the final bell, the talking around the room quiets as Mrs. Trixie walks through the door with arms full of supplies. She sets them down on her desk with a smile and a sigh before turning to the class. 

"Good morning," she says in her usual cheery tone. "Is everyone having a good Thursday?" 

The class mumbles different responses before falling back into silence. 

"Well, we have a lot to do today. You will be starting to paint the animal sketches you made. Hopefully we can get through this project in good time. The next one is my favorite," she admits bashfully. 

"Can we know what that project is...?" I drawl. 

"Oh, Andi. Always excited for art," she chirps. Honestly, it's no secret I'm her favorite. And not just saying that. She doesn't exactly make it subtle. "But no, you will just have to wait," she laughs, almost excited by the secrecy. 

I playfully huff and slump in my seat. It's also no secret that she's one of my favorites, as well. 

"Fine," I moan.

She laughs and continues to address the class, "Okay, so everyone go get your sketches and get to work on the backgrounds!" 

We all slowly start to make our way to the back. I find my sketch from the drying racks--despite the fact that all they are, are sketches, at this point--and bring it back to the table. Everyone flocks back to the table after we collect some paints and brushes. I make Evan go get the cup of water for all of us and set it in the center. 

"What animal are you doing, Luke?" I ask as I dip my brush in one of the blobs of green on my pallet. 

"A penguin," he answers. 

"Aww, penguins are so cute," Em coos. 

"They also make good jerky," Evan says. We all turn to him with wide--and slightly horrified--eyes. 

"What?" I question. 

"Yeah, last time I went to Alaska to visit some family, I had it," he chuckles. 

"You do know that there aren't even penguins in Alaska, right?" 

He shrugs with a smile. "Doesn't mean we can't ship 'em." 

"Hmm," I hum, not really knowing what else to say to that one. Instead, I turn to Luke. "So, Lucas... how's R?" 

His lips turn up in a giddy grin that he tries to hide by looking down at his paper. "She's good," he says, a blush creeping higher and higher up his neck. 

"What's up with you and R?" Em asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"They're smitten," I answer smugly. 

"Seriously?!" Evan asks with wide eyes and I give him a weird look. 

"Yeah... Why...?" Luke asks, giving Ev a similar expression. 

"Have you seen her?! How did you manage to get her?!" 

"Okay--back off," Luke chuckles. "She's taken. And, as a matter of fact, I have indeed seen her." 

"Then you know how hot she is," he answers, seemingly unfazed by the rest. 

"Umm..." Luke chuckles, a little uncomfortable with the specific question. "I guess." 

My eyebrows quirk up in interest. "You  _guess_? Are you saying you don't find your girlfriend attractive?" 

He rolls his eyes and places his face in his hands, covering his tomato cheeks. "I'm not falling into that hell hole," he chuckles. 

"Then answer the question," Em chirps, playing along with my new game. "Is she hot or not?" 

He groans and runs his hands down his face. "Guys, I don't really feel comfortable--" 

"Be a man and say you bagged a hot piece of ass!" Evan yells and the room goes quiet. He looks to the class with a glare. "You're all just jealous you can't say it yourself. Go paint your birds." He turns back around to us while everyone awkwardly returns to their business. 

"Okay, I'm not going to say that," Luke chuckles. "All I  _will_  say--not to condone your objectification--R is pretty and attractive and we get on well." 

Not what I was hoping to get out of him, but that's a better answer than anything embarrassing I would have been able to coax out of him. I give him a small smile and nod. When he sees me, he looks down at the table again with a similar grin. 

"Aww!" Em coos after a few seconds. "That's so cute!" 

"Evan, this is why you're single," I tease. 

"Please," he scoffs. "I do just fine." 

"Exactly," I smugly comment. "Just  _fine_." 

"She's got a point, mate," Luke chuckles with a shrug. "I seem to be doing a lot better than  _just fine_." 

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs, gladly being a good sport. 

"Yeah, yeah." Luke chuckles back. "Well, moving on... What animal are you doing?" he asks Evan. 

He sits up straighter with a smug smirk. "An emu." Em and I roll out eyes with a silent groan. 

"Hmm... should've figured," he mumbles. "How about you guys?" he asks, turning to us. 

"I'm doing a chocolate lab," Em chirps. She notices Evan opening his mouth and she quickly adds, "And no it's not because I want to 'eat him up'!" He just laughs, thinking it's still funny. If only he knew--it wasn't exactly funny the first time. 

"I'm doing a squirrel," I say. 

Em chuckles to herself, cupping her hand to hide her mouth and staring down at her paper. 

"What?" Luke asks. 

Ember shakes her head. "She just loves squirrels," she squeaks. Luke's face twists in confusion. 

"She has this creepy thing about squirrels," Evan laughs. 

"Why?" Luke chuckles. 

"Many reasons," Em answers. 

"She says if she were to be one animal, it would be a squirrel," Evan says. "If you ask me, she already has the personality down." 

"And what personality would that be?" 

"You know... small minded, short attention span, the yearning to live in a tree, vicious, and loves to stuff nuts in her cheeks," he explains and my jaw drops open. 

"Excuse you! They are cuddly and soft and adorable," I scold. 

"She didn't deny the nuts," he mock whispers to Luke.

I tightly purse my lips and pick up my brush with a fresh blob of paint and fling it at his face. It splatters across his chest and cheeks, a solid streak down his forehead. 

"What the fuck?!" he laughs. He makes a scoff and dips his own brush in a puddle of bright blue paint and launches it back at me. I squeeze my eyes and mouth shut, feeling as the cold goo splatters my skin. When I open them back up, I find Evan sitting with an amused grin. 

"You wanna fight?" I snap. 

He laughs mockingly. "Bring it." 

"You little twerp," I growl as I collect another blob and shoot. He fires right back and then it's just a jumble of flying colors. As soon as a few drops land on Luke and Ember, they are joining right in with us. I don't even notice the amount of paint collecting on me, too focused on getting a bulls eye on each and every one of them, so when Mrs. Trixie comes over to us, I'm surprised to look down and see my shirt completely coated. 

"What are you guys doing?" she yells, but can't seem to keep the amusement from her tone. 

"She started it!" Evan is all too quick to answer, pointing across at me. 

"He called me a squirrel!" I shoot back. 

Her shoulders deflate with an airy huff, still with a small smile on her face. She stands there and stares at us in amused exasperation. 

"Sorry," I chuckle, finishing with an exaggerated smile. 

She mumbles some musings under her breath and laughs. "Okay, just go clean up in the back." 

"Roger that," I say and scramble to stand up and walk to the sinks in the back of the classroom. I hear the rest of them shuffling behind me. I turn on the water and begin to scrub my hands with soap, biting my lip to keep from laughing. Luke comes to stand next to me, Evan and Ember squeezing in on the other side so we can all stuff our hands in the sink. 

"Good job. Look what you did," Evan pouts. Of course he's joking because we both know he doesn't give a shit about getting in a little trouble in exchange for some quirky antics that never fail to entertain his small mind. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I dramatically mock. 

He glares. "Don't patronass me." 

I scoff a laugh. "You mean  _patronize_?" 

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm." 

"Bite me." I shake my head with a laugh and go back to scrubbing the colors from my skin. 

"So how's your eye project with Michael going?" Ember asks. 

"I turned it in yesterday," I say, muted happiness in my voice. 

"Oh, you're finished with it?" Luke questions. 

"Yep. All written, printed, and handed in." 

"So you and Mike aren't gonna be, like, meeting and stuff anymore?" 

"Nope. It's over and done with," I sigh. 

"Well... is that... good?" he asks shyly. 

"Why wouldn't it be? I don't have to do all that work anymore," I lightly chuckle. 

"I don't know... I mean, you've been kind of... elusive... all week." 

"I have not." 

"A little," he says, shrugging to try to belittle his words. 

"I've just been tired," I excuse. "I have a lot to do before Saturday." 

"You starting to get into the whole formal thing?" he chuckles. 

"Yeah, sure..." I mumble. He knows better than to question it. 

"But, like... I don't know. How are... things...?" 

"Things...?" I mock. 

"Like... I mean... with Mike?" 

I shrug. "We're good." 

"You guys don't seem to talk to each other, as much." 

"I guess. Not on purpose." 

"Are you just giving each other space, or something?" 

"Something like that," I mumble. I haven't been meaning to avoid him or whatever. He just seems all uncomfortable whenever we are all doing anything other than joking around. Even if it's all silent and we are doing our own things, he gets all fidgety. I've just been trying to let him do whatever he needs to do to... I don't really know, actually. Something. 

"Is this supposed to be... I don't know... a means to an end, of sorts? Because that's kinda how it seems. It's like you're trying to slowly drift from each other. Maybe I'm saying it wrong but it's there." 

"Ends happen everyday. Different things. Some more important than the others. I guess it's a means to an end of some sort," I mumble. "I just don't know what yet."

"Be careful what you end."

"Things end with and without my help." 

"Well," Luke starts. "Be careful about it, okay?

"Yeah, okay." 

I watch the color run from my hands and swirl down the drain. I allow myself to get lost in the running water when I feel a set of teeth bite down on my shoulder. 

"Ow!" I squeal. I turn around and find Evan behind me with an innocent smile and a shrug.

"You said 'bite me'."


	23. Chapter 23

_She stood by as it fell apart. Separate rooms and broken hearts, but I won't be the one to let you go. Oh, I'm not sure what this is gonna be, but with my eyes closed all I see is the skyline, through the window, the moon above you and the streets below. Hold my breath as you're moving in, taste your lips and feel your skin. When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly._

_[«Kiss Me Slowly» Parachute*](https://youtu.be/Km75Pc0YzdQ) _

\-----

"What is she listening to?" I hear Calum ask. I turn the volume up.

" _Sleeping With Sirens_  just released their new album and she hasn't stopped playing it since it came out," R sighs. "I mean, I love them, too. But she's literally been listening to the same sixteen songs over and over again for hours."

"Should we do something?" Luke says. I turn it up.

"I mean, maybe?" Ashton questions. "This can't be healthy, can it?"

"Let's just take the headphones away," Calum decides.

I don't panic just yet.

"If you take away her headphones, that is literally your death sentence," R states seriously.

And that's why.

"Okay, but this isn't normal! It's been forty-eight hours! She's going to short out her brain or something!" Luke shrieks.

"Calm down," R snaps. "She's fine. She does this whenever there's a new song or whatever."

"Any new song?" Ashton asks, sounding confused.

"Any by her favorite bands, yes."

"Hmm," Calum hums. "I'm going for it."

Finally, I make a move to reach behind the couch cushion, pulling out my spray bottle. I aim it in the direction of Calum's footsteps and shoot.

"What the fuck?!" he screams. "How did she even do that?! Her eyes are closed and she's blasting music!"

"Never believe you can get the best of me, Clum," I state, my eyes remaining closed and headphones securely in place. "I am the master and you are a fool."

"Nuh-uh!" he snipes. At this, I open one eye to stare at him.

"You really think arguing 'nuh-uh' proves that you are not a fool?"

He scoffs and sticks his tongue out at me. I glare at him with my one eye and stick my own back at him.

"We are children," R sighs. "Now that we have your attention, Andi--put down the music."

"Fine," I groan, sitting up from the couch. "Only because I think I'm starting to wear out my headphones."

"Uh-huh," she laughs. I flip her off as I stand up to join the rest of the as the move to hover over a sheet of paper. "What are you looking at?"

"Set list for tomorrow," Michael mumbles the first words I've heard him say all day. I walk to stand next to him, looking over his shoulder at the list. I feel him stiffen beside me but I refrain from rolling my eyes and continue scrolling through song titles.

"Yeah, and we have to rehearse a tad more. You girls wanna give us some feedback?" Luke asks, wrapping his arm to rest around R's waist.

"Always," R chirps. Luke smiles and gives her cheek a kiss.

"Ew," Calum grimaces. "Let's just play, okay?"

Luke bites his lip as he chuckles and pinches R's hip before walking towards his guitar.

"What do you guys wanna do first?" Ashton asks as he sits down behind the large drum kit.

"Let's see what they think of  _Kiss Me Slowly_. Plus, we need more work on the slow songs," Calum suggests.

"Okay. So guys, tell us what you guys think of this one. Like, is this a good slow dance song and all that," Ashton explains. "We can always change any of the songs if we need to, but Michael also really wants to do this one, so we'll see."

I chance a quick glance at Mike to find him distracted in fiddling with his guitar. I look back at Ash and give him a nod to continue. They all call out quick instructions before the boys start playing the bouncy tempo and Luke starts in on the first verse.

" _Stay with me, baby stay with me. Tonight don't leave me alone. Walk with me, come and walk with me, to the edge of all we've ever known_."

I watch Michael when Calum starts singing the second verse. His face looks expressionless, but almost tired and drained at the same time.

" _Two shadows standing by the bedroom door. No, I could not want you more than I did right then, as our heads leaned in_."

Luke takes over for the first chorus, closing his eyes as he sings into the microphone.

" _Well, I'm not sure what this is gonna be, but with my eyes closed all I see is the skyline, through the window, the moon above you and the streets below. Hold my breath as you're moving in. Taste your lips and feel your skin. When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly_."

I see Michael close his own eyes as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He bites down on his lip before parting them to go into the next verse.

" _Staywith me, baby stay with me. Tonight don't leave me alone. She shows me everything she used to know. Picture frames and country roads, when the days were long and the world was small. She stood by as it fell apart. Separate rooms and broken hearts, but I won't be the one to let you go_."

I hold my gaze on Michael as Luke takes over the chorus. His jaw holds tension and I can tell he's forcing himself to keep his eyes closed. I've learned that I'm a bit better at holding my emotions inside, keeping a mask unwavering to the world. With Michael, I can tell he's feeling something besides a straight face. He's good enough for me not to know what that is, but it's something.

" _Don't run away, and it's hard to love again, when the only way it's been, when the only love you know, just walked away. If it's something that you want, darling you don't have to run, you don't have to go. Just stay with me, baby stay with me_."

Luke picks back up along with the rest of the boys for the last chorus, all of them seeming to put their heart in it.

" _Well, I'm not sure what this is gonna be, but with my eyes closed all I see is the skyline, through the window, the moon above you and the streets below. Hold my breath as you're moving in. Taste your lips and feel your skin. When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly_."

" _Oh, I'm not sure where this is gonna go, but in this moment all I know is the skyline, through the window, the moon above you and the streets below. Hold my breath as you're moving in. Taste your lips and feel your skin. When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly_."

As the music fades to silence, I watch Michael skeptically. He keeps his focus on the instrument and I look away. The rest of the boys are slowly putting down their instruments. Luke walks over first and R casually starts clapping, a small smirk on her face. He chuckles and grabs her hips, pulling her in for a soft kiss. R smiles against his lips before they both pull back.

"If that's what this song does, I vote no," Calum groans.

Luke flips him off with the same genuine little smile stuck to his face. R chuckles and rolls her eyes at the both of them.

"Well, I, for one, am definitely a fan of  _Parachute_ ," I say. "And I especially love that song."

"We got a volunteered compliment from Andi!" Ashton cries. "That decides it!"

"Well, that's that," Luke laughs.

Michael finally walks over to our huddle, shoving his hands in his pockets without a word.

"What's stuck up your ass?" I deadpan. He furrows his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I'm done with your crap," I say with a shrug. "Cut the bullshit. Why are you being weird?"

I can see the others looking around at each other, caught off guard by the sudden situation.

"Um--yeah, here," Luke stutters, cutting himself off.

"Balcony?" R asks.

"Let's give them some space," Calum chuckles uncomfortably.

"Fourth floor?" R recommends. They all mumble awkward agreements and shuffle quickly towards the door, pushing and fighting to get through the door as fast as possible.

I roll my eyes impatiently until they finally scuffle down the stairway. I hold my silent stare down for a moment before getting started.

"So? Talk."

"I still don't understand," he scoffs.

"Why have you been weird?" I clarify. I don't care if I'm being a bitch. I don't have patience for any of this crap.

He rolls his eyes and looks down at his shuffling feet. I scoff and thread my fingers through his hair, fisting it and dragging his head to look up at me. He winces in surprise and pain.

"Why are you being weird?" I speak slowly.

"It's fucking frustrating when you when you're trying to fix a broken girl who refuses to see the cracks," he grits through his teeth and my eyes go wide. I give a tug on his hair and I can see on his face that he's trying not to wince.

"Excuse me?! 'Trying to  _fix_  a  _broken_  girl'?! Who the fuck do you think you are?! Where did you get this hero complex that convinced you that I'm this broken girl for you to save?!" I scream.

"Talk to the tears on your pillow," he grunts. I narrow my eyes harder at him.

"Believe me when I say there are no fucking tears on my fucking pillow," I spit.

"And you swear you're fine," he laughs. "You're blind to a lot of things, you know."

"Okay, so open my eyes," I growl, releasing my hold and knocking his head backwards. He scoffs and runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm shining a light on it pretty bright already. You know exactly what you ran away from a week ago."

"A week ago I left after you told me I'm a fucking little girl that you can fix. I'll accept the gesture, I suppose, but whatever else is going up in there needs to figure itself out and realizing what it's messing with."

"You can't be blind forever, you know," he huffs.

"My eyes are wide open and reality is the only thing I see," I growl. "Everything else is fiction and temporary. I see what I need to see to keep it that way."

"What the fuck is even happening?" he laughs incredulously to himself.

"That's a great question," I chuckle. "What the fuck is happening?"

_Michael's POV_

"I don't know!" I yell, throwing my arms in the air.

I am beyond frustrated. At this point, I am frustrated. Frustrated with Andi, frustrated with myself, frustrated with the walls around the both of us, frustrated with the wall between us. I am frustrated with how it seems that nothing in my life makes sense right now.

Here I have this girl who is infuriatingly confusing and enticing at the same time. This girl that I have a great time with, that I have made out with, that I have yelled at, that has yelled at me, that I have fucking serenaded. This girl that doesn't want to wake up, that doesn't trust the world, that believes in endings above everything else, that wakes up from freaky nightmares, that somehow deals with things I can never understand. This girl with stupid fucking golden speckled dark honey brown eyes that are sparkly even when she's beyond hysterical and yelling at me through tears. How does any of that even make sense?!

This girl that is hilarious and quiet and smart and creative and different and wild and reckless and stubborn and doesn't even seem real sometimes.

Ugh, what the fuck?! God, I'm so frustrated with her for not getting it when I have no idea what the fuck I want from all of this. I want something but that helps me understand shit. I know more than anything, I want to see behind her walls. I want to find out what the fuck is going on and why she's so upset or whatever she is. There's something going on in her head that is tormenting her, and while there are the obvious explanations, there's more than that. Maybe if I can make sense of that, I can figure out how to bring those walls. Maybe... help her be happy, I guess. Maybe. It's all just a bunch of maybes that I have to figure out myself.

"I don't know, Andi," I groan, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the bridge of my nose.

"You can't just be like this and not know!" Wow, hypocrite much? "You can't pull all this shit and walk away without a reason!" she shouts.

"This is exactly what I can do when I don't know! I stumble around doing different things trying to figure out what I'm trying to make happen!" I yell, almost laughing from hysteria.

"Well figure yourself out before you drag me into it," she growls.

"Look who's talking," I scoff. She shoots daggers at me with a dropped jaw.

"Excuse me? What does that mean?"

I laugh to myself, ducking my head down and mumbling, "Never mind." I look back up with an exhausted face. "Look, I'm tired. Why don't we pick this argument up a little later?"

"Don't patronize me," she scoffs.

I shrug. "Well, anyways. I'm taking a nap." I turn around, heading towards the mattress. I shout over my shoulder on the way, "You guys can come back now!"

The door opens and all four of them casually walk back in.

"So, how were the fourth floorers?" Andi grumbles, playing off the anger I know is still harshly pulsating through her veins.

"Good," R chirps. "We chatted."

"And they gave us this," Ashton muses, unrolling a bag of green leaves.

"Pot? We sent you way for ten minutes and you came back with weed?" Andi scoffs.

"Technically we were only down there for about five minutes," Calum says. "Then we came up to listen behind the door."

"And they just gave you pot?" Michael chuckles.

"They have some growing on the roof," R comments with a shrug. "We've made an alias with them over the years. We do each other favors."

The guys laugh and Luke wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in to fondly kiss the top of her head with an endearing smile. They were sickeningly adorable.

"I'm taking a nap," I mumble, not waiting for a response before collapsing on the bed.

 


	24. Chapter 24

_Everybody put up your hands up say, I don't wanna be in love. Feel the beat now if you got nothing left say I don't wanna be in love. Don't give up now, you got a reason to live say, I don't wanna be in love. Feeling good now, don't be afraid to get down say, I don't wanna be in love._

_[«I Don't Wanna Be In Love (Dance Floor Anthem)» Good Charlotte**](https://youtu.be/OpNbTlehSHU) _

\-----

"Have you seen my shoe?!" R yells from my room down the hall. 

"You threw it at the spider!" I shout back before focusing back on not smudging the dark cranberry lipstick I'm trying to put on. I know better than to be careless with this stuff because you may as well be dying your skin for a couple of days if it gets anywhere else. 

"Got it!" she calls. 

"Hey, if you want me to do your makeup, you better hurry up!" 

"I'm coming! You need to calm down!" 

I roll my eyes fondly. "Hey, I just need to put my shoes on! You need to put your whole face on!" 

"Don't be a bitch," she mutters as she walks through to join me in the bathroom. I shrug with a smirk and she laughs at me. 

"Okay, come on over!" I tell her and she walks to stand in front of me next to the sink. I go straight in with the eyes since I already had her do her foundation. I dab my brush in a white and sweep it across her brow bone and looping a little under the corners of her eyes. I pick out a pale warm purple and carefully color the eyelid before using a slightly darker to shade between the two colors and underline the eyes. I get a darker indigo color and dab the outer corners before swooping them into the crease and below the eyes. I do a quick wing liner and mascara and pencil her brows before letting her look in the mirror. 

"Shit," she sighs. "You do a great purple smoky eye." 

"I manage," I shrug and she slaps me with a dumb look on her face. I give her an obnoxious smile and laugh when she rolls her eyes. "Now hold still and let me finish your face." 

I finish up with some bronzer and highlights, dabbing some blush on the top of her cheekbones. I touch up any dusted eye shadow and leave her to paint on her deep purple glossy lipstick. 

I touch up my own gold dusted black smoky eye. I debate between leaving my hair down but decide to wrap it in an orderly but messy bun on the top of my head, sticking a few pins in it until it's sturdy. I slip my dangling gold spike earrings on and slide my arrow cuff up my wrist not clad with the cuff. The thing is that it never comes off, so people can deal with it. 

"We ready?" I ask R. She smacks her lips before turning away from the mirror. 

"Yep! I'm just gonna put my shoes on downstairs so I don't have to deal with walking down those," she laughs. 

"Sounds good." 

We both grab our shoes and I secure my phone under my bra strap under my arm because I will not be carrying a purse around all night, nor will I trust my phone with anyone else to keep safe from being stolen. 

"Yo!" Hayden's voice cries from downstairs. "Hurry your butts up! Mom won't let us play until you people leave!" 

"So stop being boring girls and get out!" Jax adds and I roll my eyes. 

"We're coming! Calm down!" 

"No, you calm down!" they both yell at the same time and I don't have to be in the same room to know they just bumped fists. 

I decide to not even respond and just start heading downstairs, R right beside me. I reach up and adjust the wisps hanging down the sides of my face, grunting every time the heels of my shoes in my hand hit my head. R laughs at me struggling down the stairs while she easily steps down each level behind me. I huff out a sigh when I reach the bottom, glad I didn't try to do those in heels. When I look up, the boys are staring at me with wide eyes. I quirk my brow glancing between them and the stairs.

" _Really?_ " I ask incredulously, mocking and humor in my tone. They look as if I just made a grand entrance, smiling and waving as I gracefully descend a magnificent marble stairway. 

They shrug and stutter as they look away, knowing if they stood there in awe another second I'd kick their ass. 

"Hmm," R hums before laughing and moving on. 

"Well, can you leave now?" Jax drawls. 

I flick his forehead and walk to sit down on the couch and put on my shoes. I slip my foot in the heel and buckle the black strap across my ankle, doing the same on the other one before standing back up and shouting to my mom that we're leaving. 

"Now we run," I mumble, quickly shuffling everyone out. 

"What?" Calum asks, looking confused seeing as they just spent the last thirty minutes trying to get us to leave and I'm suddenly shoving us all through the door. 

"Wait!" I hear my mom call from the other room and I groan. 

"Hurry! I don't want to spend twenty more minutes posing for a phone camera," I order. 

They all seem to get the picture and start heading out without my push. I close the door behind us and hobble as fast as I can to the car. As soon as the boys are shut in the back, I pull out without looking back. 

"I feel like you've done that before," Ashton laughs. 

"Once or twice," I mumble with a smirk to them in the rear-view mirror. 

They laugh and I turn up the radio. I spend the rest of the ride listening to the boys talk about what songs they're excited about and which they're nervous for. 

We all unload and hand our tickets to the guy at the front. He gives us a smile and we walk through the double doors. 

The gym is the cliché lights and streamers and cheap metallic stars hanging from the ceiling. I didn't expect anything less, so the nausea wasn't nearly what it could be. 

"Okay, well we have to go set up," Luke announces. "Come help." 

"Why do we have to help?" R huffs. 

"Please," he begs, scrunching up his nose in a big smile. She gives him annoyed before sighing and taking his outstretched hand in her own. 

"Weak!" I scoff. 

"You're coming too," she chuckles. 

"I told Em and Evan I'd meet them." 

"Why?" Michael questions with a confused expression. 

"I told them if I had to go to this thing, they'd have to go too."

"I repeat," he breathes. "Why?" 

"I like them..." I drag out as if it was obvious. 

"Which really is a rare thing with her," Calum giggles. I shrug and nod along to his comment, accepting the more than true fact. 

"Yeah, okay," Michael mutters. "Well, let's go then." 

"Just bring them and meet us in there," Luke calls as he backs away from our circle, the rest turning to follow. I give him a thumbs up and watch until they disappear behind the crowd of sweaty teenagers flailing about. Technically, the dance started a half hour ago. And technically, the boys were supposed to go. However, we told them they'd be coming a little later. 

I text Em that I'm by the entrance. She says that they'll be there in a few seconds so I look around for them. Finally, I see them walking around the opposite end of the mosh pit. 

Ember squeals when she sees me and tries to run over in her heels to hug me. She kind of succeeds but is able to finally wrap her arms around me, not letting go until I hug her back just as tight. 

We're both laughing by the time we pull apart, just in time for Evan to saunter over with a glare. 

"Weird," he mutters.

"Whatever," I chuckle. "Come with me to help the guys set up!" 

"Okay!" Em agrees easily and we drag Evan behind us. 

We find them on the wings of the stage, Calum and Michael messing with the chords hooked up to their instruments while Luke and R stand off to the side. 

"Hey guys!" I call. 

"Hey man!" Ash yells back as Evan walks over to give him a bro hug. I leave him with them and bring Em to Luke and R. 

"You're keeping your boyfriend from doing anything," I sigh. "He'll turn lazy and then you'll have no one to bring you snacks when you're old." 

"You'll bring me snacks," she teases. 

"I'm already too lazy to get my own snacks." 

"We'll hire someone." 

"Glad we settled that." We both giggle and grin at each other. 

"Do you know why that just happened?" Luke asks Em. 

"Nope," she chirps, seeming completely content with the fact. 

"Okay," he laughs. "Well, I am actually going to get set up." 

"No..." R groans, slipping her hands under his leather jacket then reaching up to grab onto the collar of his white button up. 

"We're going on in ten," he chuckles, adjusting his hands around her hips. "Go get a front row view." 

She rolls her eyes with a happy scoff while he stands with a shit eating grin hardly contained by biting his lip. 

"Yeah, sure," she laughs and loosens her grip to tap his chest. "Now go." She shoves him towards the stage and he giggles before turning to join the rest of the guys. 

"You're disgusting," Evan remarks. R quickly transforms an elated smile to a scowl in the blink of an eye. 

"You're a lonely bastard," she snaps. Evan's eyebrows shoot up in an amused expression. 

"That was a defensive response," he mocks. 

"I'll punch you in the throat," R growls. 

"Go ahead and try," Evan laughs, thoroughly entertained. 

"Don't think I won't," R says, finally allowing a slight smirk to cross her lips as she takes a step forward with a raised fist. She feigns a punch with a tough expression and Evan just laughs before she joins him. 

"Yeah, whatever you two," I chuckle. "Let's just go down." 

We all start down the steps off the stage and make our way through the crowd in front of the stage, stopping right in the center and dancing along to the last few songs before they come on. Em and I lace our fingers together and dance around while making silly faces at each other, laughing at how ridiculous we must look. Evan and R eventually crash our little party and slither under our arms, dancing in the little circle between us. 

We mess around for a few more songs before the music fades out and everyone turns to face the front. The guys come on with instruments in hand. Luke heads straight to center stage and slightly adjusts the mic stand to fit his giant form. 

"Hey, everybody!" he laughs. "Um, well, I'm Luke, that's Michael," he announces, pointing behind to him. "Then that's Calum on bass, and Ashton on drums. So, yeah, uh, we're  _5 Seconds of Summer_  and we're gonna play some stuff." 

I have to laugh a bit at his awkwardness while R just shakes her head with a smile. 

"So this is a song we, uh, actually wrote a little while ago. It's called  _Don't Stop_. Hope you guys don't hate it," he chuckles nervously. 

They quietly count off to each other before going straight into the intro. They sound pretty good and I think I've heard them rehearsing this song once or twice. 

The four of us dance around wildly and cheer them on, singing along terribly seeing as only R and I know a small portion of the lyrics. Still, we go all out and loose ourself in the beat, laughing when they make weird faces into the microphone during their parts and having more fun than I expected to have at a school formal. We pause every few seconds when one of them gets all intense and give the music their all for a verse or two. They are admittedly entertaining performers to watch and I fond myself almost hypnotized by the way they get so lost in the music. 

When the song comes to an end, everyone claps and hollers for them. Calum walks to the edge of the stage and takes a sip from his water bottle before putting it back down and resuming his spot behind the mic. Michael pushes the already rolled up sleeves of his white button up. There's a sheen of sweat already forming on his forehead and the part of his chest that can be seen due to the few buttons left undone at the top. Luke grabs the mic and stand in either hands again. 

"Thanks, guys! Okay, this next one is a cover of  _Good Charlotte_. This is  _I Don't Wanna Be In Love_!" 

Calum starts off before Luke takes over the second verse, " _He calls her up. He's trippin' on the phone now. He doesn't want her out there and alone now. He knows she's movin' it. Knows she's using it. Now he's losing it, she don't care_."

" _Everybody put up your hands. Say I don't wanna be in love. I don't wanna be in love. Feel the beat now. If you've got nothing left say I don't wanna be in love. I don't wanna be in love. Back it up now. You've got a reason to live. Say I don't wanna be in love. I don't wanna be in love. Feelin' good now. Don't be afraid to get down. Say I don't wanna be in love. I don't wanna be in love_!" they all sing animatedly through the chorus. I look over to Mike, noting how he quickly averts his gaze that was obviously trained on me. 

" _He was always giving her attention. Looking hard to find the things she mentioned. He was dedicated but most suckers hate it. That girl was fine but she didn't appreciate him_ ," Calum sings and Luke takes over next. 

" _She calls him up. She's trippin' on the phone now. He had to get up and he ain't comin' home now. He's tryin' to forget her. That's how we come with him. When he first met her. When they first got together_."

They all continue into the chorus and I can't help but notice that while Michael won't spare me a glance lasting longer than one second, Luke and R are noticeably exchanging looks and flicking their gaze to me every few seconds and I choose to ignore. 

" _You got nothing to lose. Don't be afraid to get down. We break up, it's something that we do now. Everyone has got to do it sometime. It's okay, let it go. Get out there and find someone_ ," Michael sings seriously into his microphone, only moving his eyes to glance at the crowd straight ahead a few times, keeping his gaze on the floor in front of him, otherwise. 

Luke suddenly stares straight at me with a heavy gaze, looking determined and keeping his eyes directly on mine as he sings, 

" _Stop what you're doin', you don't wanna ruin, the chance that you got to find a new one_."

I give him a curious look, but he is already moving with the tempo and giving his all for the final chorus. 

I rejoin dancing with the group for the rest of their set. After they all exit the stage, we decide to move more into the middle of the dance floor and continue jumping around to the music. 

After about fifteen minutes, R announces that she's going to go find Luke, leaving the three of us to continue making idiots of ourselves with smiles on our faces.

 


	25. Chapter 25

_I know people make promises all the time, Then they turn right around and break them. When someone cuts your heart open with a knife and you're bleeding. But I could be that guy to heal it over time, and I won't stop until you believe it, 'cause baby you're worth it. So don't act like it's a bad thing to fall in love with me._

_[«Not a Bad Thing» Justin Timberlake](https://youtu.be/KpS-9OcYyqk) _

\-----

_Michael's POV_

"What is even happening?" I groan.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Luke chuckles, not looking up from the grape he is trying to peel as entertainment. "If you're stupid or blind or whatever enough to be so clueless, you'll just have to figure it out on your own."

I let out a heavy sigh and drag my hands down my face. Andi and Evan continue dancing about, oblivious to the hot steam spinning inside my head. 

"I don't know what to do! What can I do when it's blatantly obvious she isn't available for anything else?! I mean, at this point, I don't even know if friends is an option in her mind!" I fume. 

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Luke sighs and stops fidgeting with the fruit, finally looking up to give me his full attention. "So  _you_  want something more, now?" 

"What is  _more_?" I snide. 

"Morning cuddles, brunch, holding hands, meeting the parents, doing her favors, holding her purse. All that stuff," he laughs. "You guys already have the kissing down." 

"Fuck off," I grunt. "Plus, I don't think Andi is the type for  _brunch_  or a big deal  _meet the parents_. Favors, holding hands, and morning cuddles I'll accept. Purse--she's on her own." 

"Okay, regardless. That means that's what you want?" I can hear his smug smirk. 

"That's something--" 

"You want," Luke cuts me off. 

"That's something I could--"

"Want." He tips forward on his toes with every answer and I want to tug his blond hair out. 

"Let me talk, dickface," I snap. "That's something I could maybe handle, I guess." 

Luke purses his lips in a quick line with a nod. "So you want it?" 

"You're an ass," I scoff. 

"Just go for it, will you?!" he laughs mockingly. "Go for it because you both want it even though Andi seems to be even more oblivious to that than you, and god knows she won't make the first move! She can't be afraid of falling in love forever!" 

"What?" I ask, my tone more calm. "What does that mean?" 

Luke shrugs and rolls his eyes. "I don't know, this philiophobia thing where she's scared to be in love. Stuff with her childhood and shit." 

"Well, that's great," I groan. I slump my shoulders and pick at the cookie crumbs on the snack table. "So then what am I trying to do with this? I'm not saying I love her, but if she's afraid of anything even related, what else is there?!" 

"Just because she's scared of falling in love doesn't mean she never will." 

"Do you even know Andi?!" I laugh, border-lining on hysteria. "She's the most stubborn, guarded, and aggravating person I've ever met! She won't be open to risking feeling  _anything_!" 

"God fucking dammit," Luke mutters, pinching the bridge between his nose, his face twisted and scrunched. "I swear, Michael, grow a pair or I'll be pushing you off the fire escape next chance I get!" he screams.  _Screams_. His face looks so exasperated in fury, I'm almost scared. 

"Take a breath, mate," I scoff. "It's not like it's ruining  _your_  life." 

"I swear." His eyes go wide and he starts almost pacing in place, jerking around in spot. "You know what?! Just--just go! Go now and just fucking try, would you?!" 

"Whoa, what's going on?" R chuckles as she assumes her place next to Luke, resting her hands on his arm soothingly. 

"They're both idiots!" Luke laughs. 

"Okay, well, I already knew that," she answers back in a 'duh' tone. "But, Mikey, and who else?" 

I narrow my eyes at her with furrowed brows. "You didn't know who else he was talking about but assumed they're idiots." 

"I don't know anyone I associate with that  _isn't_  an idiot." 

I give her a weird look but Luke ignores me, going back to explaining to R. 

"Michael and Andi," he huffs and I want to throw another rock at his head. 

That's right.  _Another_. 

But that's a story for another time... 

"Oh," she chuckles. "Well, then, yeah, my position stands. You're both idiots." 

"You do realize you just called your best friend an idiot?" 

"We're both idiots and we embrace it," she says with a shrug and roll of her eyes. 

"Okay, whatever," Luke snaps, directing our attention back to his frustrated figure. "Back to the reason they're both such idiots. Neither of them will make a move when it's obvious they have-- _something_!"

"Well, we all know, but Andi honestly doesn't," R scoffs a humorless laugh. "I mean somewhere in her head, she does. But as far as being aware of it, I'll bet you billions she's already excused everything that has happened with some sort of rationale only she could convince herself of. She's written it off and told herself it's in the past, so there's no point in getting hung over on it, and she is perfectly content with that." 

"That's kinda bizarre to believe, isn't it?" I ask, looking over at Andi dancing wildly with a smile on her face. She starts laughing at something Evan must've done and Ember laughs along. 

"I mean, it's not a point a lot of people get to, you know?" R says, all of us speaking with softer tones, just barely able to be heard over the music. 

"What do you mean?" I urge, not taking my eyes off Andi. 

"I mean, think about it. How much pain do you have to be in for your body to not even let you feel it? For your body to know before your head does that it's too much, so you don't even know any of it's there. You've convinced yourself you're alright before you can think of why you wouldn't be." 

"So what do I do?" I breathe, taking a moment to admire the way her hands move far above her head in time with the sway of her hips, looking so free and unrestrained--more than I've ever seen her before. I frown that I can't be the one to make her feel so weightless. 

"You feel for her." 

I sigh out heavily, shaking my head and looking at my feet. My head is spinning, but lighter now; more thoughtful. I scoff a laugh to myself, thinking how messed up everything is right now. 

I gulp and look back up at Andi. I find her still dancing with Evan and Ember, getting more and more into the music, swiveling her hips with a smile on her face. She grabs Evan's hand from his side, holding it above her head and twirling beneath it. They both start laughing at their ridiculousness, keeping their hands clasped as he spins her out and pulls her back into him. He swings her back out again and they're still giggling as they fall back into their dancing, making faces and laughing at each other with Ember in a fit of tears, bent over and clutching her stomach after watching the scene. 

"Fuck it," I snap, pushing off my feet with my eyes trained on Andi's half hooded gold specks. 

I don't look away as I push through the crowd, knowing I'm cussed out and flipped off but I currently couldn't give a fuck. I finally reach their bubble. I hardly bat an eye as I cut straight between them without glancing anywhere except her. 

"Excuse me," I mumble as I crash my lips against hers. She immediately gasps and I don't give her a chance to think before pushing my tongue past her lips, hungrily holding her face against mine. She responds and threads her hands through my hair. I slide my hands down her body to grip her waist and press her hips against mine. She almost tries to pull herself up by her grip on my hair, trying to get as close to my lips as she can. 

Her heavy puffs of breaths between our lips and the heavy beat of the music are the only things I can hear. The atmosphere is loud and chaotic and hot and makes my heart race in so many different ways. Neither of us can seem to stay in one position for long, continually breaking and reattaching our lips and looking to grip anywhere we can to pull each other, frantically searching. Both of our bodies heave and curl with every move against each other. Her nails rake down my back and I groan in pleasure at the pain. 

"Don't forget this one," I mumble against her lips. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says without stuttering her movements. 

I claw at her hips and I'm sure it's past the border-line of painful, but I know she can take it and I can't hold it in. I hold her hips forcefully against mine, my grip strong enough to prevent her body to continue its movements. I don't let her mouth stop yet. I bite down on her lip, dragging my teeth as I pull back, her moan filling the space between us. With a last pinch, I pull off. 

"I'm more than a fuck and forget now. You're fucking scared and you're fucking worth it. You're gonna try and I'll show you feeling isn't the end," I growl into her ear, my voice and words hard and harsh but their meaning genuine. 

"What makes you think you're worth it?" she asks. She can push me away and protect her heart all she wants, but I'm gonna try this with her. 

"Because you're scared," I talk more calmly but still have the sound of a challenge in my voice. 

"What?" 

"You ran away. When I sang to you, you ran away," I say. "You stayed and you heard, then you felt, then you got scared. You felt something to be scared of." 

I feel her breath hitch against my neck. 

"So?" 

"So if I'm enough to be scared of, I'm enough to show you that there is nothing to be afraid of. You feel enough for me to feel back. I'll share some of mine and take some of yours. Make some room for good feelings to not cause an overflow and flood with the bad," I growl with a raspy feel in my voice. 

"I don't want to," she breathes calmly. 

"I know." 

I purse my lips against her head, placing a soft kiss while I feel her heartbeat stutter and calm against my own. Her breathing is heavy but calm, controlled and hesitant, but the air still feels suspended and free; open to accept however the next step is taken. It feels like there's room around us waiting empty and light to be filled any way and it's completely up to us how to fill it. The control is all in our hands and the world is ready to adjust to the choices we are making. 

I hear her swallow heavily, her mouth then dropping to breathe a few breaths and relax her chest; collecting herself the best she can. 

"Then okay."

 


	26. Chapter 26

_Go get your shovel and we'll dig a deep hole. We'll bury the castle, bury the castle. Woah. Well you built up a world of magic became your real life is tragic. Yeah you built up a world of magic._

_[«Brick By Boring Brick» Paramore](https://youtu.be/A63VwWz1ij0) _

\-----

_Michael's POV_

"Aichael!" Ashton shouts excitedly. 

"No! Midi!" Calum yells back, snapping his fingers together. 

"Ake?!" 

"Anike!"

"Andel!" 

"Mindi!" 

"That's close but doesn't actually sound like their names," Ash says thoughtfully. 

"Yeah..." Calum sighs. 

"Mandi!" Ashton screams, standing up on the bean bag, almost toppling over in his haste. 

"Yes! Mandi!" Cal claps. 

"Oh! Knock knock!" 

"Who's there?!" 

"Mandi."

"Mandi who?"

"Mandis kids are cute!" he barely sputters out through giggles before the two of them collapse, laughing through tears. 

"You're idiots," Andi mumbles from the couch, tucking her feet under herself and curls further into the book on her lap without looking up at any of them. 

"Come on!" Cal laughs. "We're just having some fun! We've just been waiting for this for  _ages_!" 

"Whatever," she grumbles, only glaring at the pages between her fingers. And that's right. It has only been about two months. Feels hell of a lot longer. 

"No need to be so grumpy, Andi," Ashton giggles. 

"Stop being dicks, would you?" I step in. 

"We had to watch both of you do your little dances around each other and deal with all the awkwardness. We called it from the beginning and now we get to have a little fun," Ash chuckles. 

"Yeah!" Cal cheers. "Andi and Michael, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G." 

Ashton bursts out into laughter. "That has never been so perfect!" 

I look over at Andi from my spot across the room where I had been sitting and tuning my guitar until Tweetle Dumb and Tweetle Dick showed up. Although it did help break a bit of awkward silence between us. 

It's only been a matter of hours, really, since the dance ended. Andi obviously isn't instantly used to the shift in the relationship. I knew she would still be hesitant, even after she agreed to try. It isn't like a switch just flipped for her. She's still the pillowphobiac scared to open up. 

The only thing that I wasn't prepared to see is her falling into this awkward, quiet, submissive person. I've never seen her look so  _small_. She's spent all day curled up in the tightest ball she can manage and her favorite blanket pulled past her shoulders, only pushing down a portion to stick her hands that hold her book out of the cocoon. She hasn't said much and doesn't seem to want to make eye contact with anyone. Usually you can give her the hardest glare and she will stare back until you crumple under her gaze. 

"That's not all! That's not all! Now the baby's drinking alcohol!" they continue to sing as I snap back into reality. Andi's face has drained of color and her body is tensed while the guys continue trying to remember the rest of the childish song. 

I stand up and walk beside the end of the couch Andi is curled against. I see her flick her eyes towards me before quickly reverting back to her book. I don't acknowledge it, I just reach down to the floor next to her and walk over to the guys. 

"Hey, dick shits!" I shout. They turn to look at me and I shoot water in their faces, watching as they sputter and try to cover their eyes. 

"We have a rule for this, you know!" Cal scolds as I finally stop shooting. 

"Yeah," Ashton says as he wipes water off his face. "None of us can use the spray bottle against each other." 

"And then Andi made the rule that we can't shoot her or she'll skewer our balls," Cal adds. 

"That's right!" 

They both look behind me at Andi, looking for some kind of confirmation about the ball skewering or some other backlash for me using her spray bottle, but all she does is sit there with her eyes on the book, although she hasn't flipped a page in a while and her stare is still rather than following the lines of words. 

"Just knock it off," I grunt to them.

I see them making mocking faces at me as I turn around again. I try to casually sit down in the middle of the couch so that I'm still close enough to Andi, but not pressed up against her and making her uncomfortable. 

"Hey," I say, trying to get her attention. She hesitantly looks up to finally look me in the eye. I can see the difficulty it is for her to hold my gaze. "Are you alright? I've never seen you like this." 

"Um, yeah. I'm fine," she mumbles. 

"You know you don't have to, you know," I mutter, stumbling a bit. "I mean, I don't want to force you." 

"I know. Just not really sure what to do with all of this." 

"Well if it makes you feel better, I've never really been in a relationship. And I know you're not gonna call it that, so I am, because that's what it is," I say firmly. "But I promise I'm not going to walk away." 

"Yeah," she sighs, looking down to pick at her nails. 

"Well, how about starting with a date?" I ask. She looks up at me and I can see the way she warily hesitates responding. 

"Nothing fancy or formal," she shyly answers after a few more seconds of silence. 

"Promise." 

She manages to twist on a small grin. 

"He's blushing!" Calum laughs. 

"Andi isn't," Ashton adds. 

"Well, yeah, but she's Andi." They both shrug in agreement. 

"Seriously, would you guys knock it off?" I huff. 

"Oh, fine," Ashton chuckles lightly. 

I turn back to Andi to find her back to looking down at her book. I lightly shove my shoulder into hers, successfully stealing her attention. 

"You know, there's nothing actually different," I speak casually, but fondly. "It's all still the same. We can still goof off and make fun of each other. You can still be comfortable putting your legs across my lap, because usually, I wouldn't have been down for ten seconds before I became your personal foot rest. It can still be the same." 

"Yeah, okay."

"I guess I'll take that for now," I say, my lips curling up just a little. 

She gives me a tight lipped smile and goes back to her book. Everyone falls into a comfortable silence, Tweetle twins having finally shut up. I close my eyes and lean back with a smile. 

"There's the cute couple!" 

My head snaps up to see Luke and R walking from the open window with elated smiles. 

That's fucking great. 

"How are the little lovebirds?!" Luke chuckles excitedly, collapsing onto the couch and pulling R into his lap. 

"I want orange juice," R says randomly as she moves to stand up, but Luke pulls her back onto his lap. 

"Lucas, let go of me," she giggles but he shakes his head. 

"Nope. You can't move."

"Luke, I'm dying of thirst. Do you want me to die?"

"Yes," he says and she gasps. 

"Don't be fucking rude."

"I don't want you to leave," he whines and she groans. 

"You're so demanding and needy and adorable," she says squishing his cheeks together. 

"I know right," he says and she rolls her eyes before turning around so she can be facing him in his lap. 

"I find you very annoying," she says poking his nose with her finger. 

"I find you very annoying," he reiterates and she wraps her arms around his neck. 

"Oh my wittle Lukey poo!" she giggles and he groans. 

"Stop calling me that."

"Okay," she says before whispering in his ear loud enough for me to hear, "I know you love it."

He blushes and I giggle to myself. R starts to kiss down his neck and he rests his hands on her waist. 

"Stop," he says and she giggles. 

"No, I love bothering you."

"Babe, seriously stop."

"I do what I want. I'm punk rock."

"The fuck you are."

"Oh, and you are?" She smirks at him and I laugh out loud. She turns around and winks at me while Luke glares. 

"More punk rock than you," he says and she laughs. 

"Sure babe," she says before kissing his neck again. 

"I fucking hate you."

"Why? Because I don't listen to your demands?"

"That's exactly wh--" he cuts his sentence off and gasps at whatever the hell she did and he grabs her hips tightly. 

"What babe? Did you like that?" 

"You little piece of--"

"Hey!" I yell cutting them off. R turns around to face me and stares innocently. 

"You two are so annoying," I say and R giggles. 

"I know right? Who brought them along?" she asks and Luke cracks up before pulling her close to his chest. 

I know that'll be Andi and I soon, I really do, so it doesn't bother me too much. 

I quickly look over to Andi still bundled up with her book. 

"Fuck off." 

Soon.

 


	27. Chapter 27

_So here we are. We're waiting for a fall. And on the radio they're calling on satellites. Like they're going to save us all. So here we are. I guess I'm praying after all. We're calling all, calling all satellites. This is a wake up call._

_[«Satellites» Sleeping With Sirens](https://youtu.be/R-qVIp4NAig) _

\-----

"Just wear the fucking skirt!" R shouts at me, throwing her hands filled with different articles of clothing around the room. 

"We're not doing anything special," I groan. "Or if we are, I'll be leaving, so there's no point either way." 

"I like it," Luke comments from where he is propped up on the end of my bed. 

"Yeah, because you're basically staring at my ass hanging out." 

A blush rises to his cheeks and mutters something as he looks down at him hands. R slaps the back of his head and he yelps.

"Hey!" he whines. "You people are the ones who wanted my help!" 

"No, your girlfriend wouldn't let me kick you out," I correct. 

"He's here to help with a guy's perspective!" R defends. 

"So then why am I getting slaps for pointing out that I am sure Michael would appreciate the skirt?!" 

"Because you're an  _idiot_ ," I say. 

"Hey!" he whine... again. "Babe?" He looks up to R with puppy eyes. She stares back at him blankly, arms crossed against her chest. 

"I don't know what you're looking at me for," she says with a shrug. 

"She called me an idiot." 

"Again... What are looking at me for?" 

Luke pouts his lip with a huff and shuts up. 

"Okay, now can I just put on some  _real_ clothes now?" I groan. 

"No, you're wearing that." 

I look down at my outfit: a tight black skirt barely covering my ass, my favorite red flannel that is probably ten sizes too big with the sleeves rolled just below my elbow and once reached about an inch past the end of my skirt, but I had cut it a while ago so that it now loosely falls around my waist. I refuse vehemently to wear anything other than my favorite black lace-up motor boots. I'd complained about being cold so R gave me some black lace tights to wear underneath. 

I'm done with dealing with them, and I suppose it could be worse. 

"Fine," I sigh. "But I'm not doing all fancy hair or whatever other shit. It will be on a bun on the top of my head and I will be done in under a minute. No need to worry about anything more than that." 

"That works!" R squeals. Sometimes she's heartless and sometimes she loves rainbows and kittens. "Just go do your makeup and we'll be done!" 

"Yep," I mumble and leave the two to go to the bathroom. 

I go through the motions of washing my face and brushing my teeth. I comb through my hair somewhat thoroughly and throw it up, tying it off so it is left in basically a big knot on top of my head, but it works. I put a simple layer of cover and blush, adding bronze and highlights here and there. I brush on some dark brown eyeshadow, blending it with a few shades and add a bold line of dark navy blue eyeliner on both lids. Most people think it's weird, but usually you can't blatantly tell the color is actually blue. It's subtle enough to not draw attention but enough to draw out the color in my eyes. I double check everything in the mirror and go back to my bedroom. 

"Fucking—" I yelp when I walk through the door. "Knock it off before I have to burn those sheets!" 

R has a hardly bashful smirk as she climbs off Luke's lap. He is left with a flush face and hair that looks like he went through a cycle in the dryer—extra fluff with a drop of product. 

"You're no fun," she giggles. She starts to move away when Luke desperately grips her hips and pulls her back to sit on his lap facing me. His eyes remain rather wide as he scrunches his face into a tight-lipped smile. I look from him to R. She's looking back at me and we both burst out laughing. 

"Oh my god! That is so priceless!" I cackle, falling over in hysterics. R leans over, clutching her stomach. She stands up and falls to the ground beside me.  

"Shut up!" Luke groan and reaches up to the top of my bed for a pillow, bringing it back as quickly as possible. His flustered expression makes us both laugh even harder. Actual tears are falling from my eyes and I can't even care about having to redo my makeup.  

"That was just too great!" R exclaims. 

"Shit! Spider!" Luke shouts. 

We are suddenly scrambling to our feet through screams and look around, frantically trying to find the perpetrator. 

"Suckers!" he starts laughing, clapping his hands like a fucking drunk seal. 

"You're an ass," I grumble while R starts slapping him. 

"Hey! This is abuse!" Luke giggles as he tries to reach her arms. He bites his lip in a concentrated smile and grabs her wrists. She fights back and forth against his grip. Luke laughs when he flips them over and cages her beneath him. They're both giggling by the time he pins down her wrists and looks at her with a smug grin.

"You win?" R asks with a wide smile. 

"Yep," Luke chirps proudly. He leans down to press his lips to hers. She smiles and when they are about to touch, R pushes him off and rolls on top of him, hands pressed into the mattress above his head. 

"Did you really?" 

 He pouts until pushing his head up to peck her lips. She shares his smile and leans for a few more kisses. 

"Okay, well, I am gonna go fix my face before Michael gets here. Don't desecrate my sacred place while I'm gone," I warn and don't wait for a response I figure I don't need to hear. 

By the time I have retouched everything, the doorbell rings. I take a last look in the mirror and try to remind myself that this is just another day hanging out with Michael. I've noticed that remembering how much of an idiot he is calms me. I don't question it.

 "Faces  _separate_!" I yell at the lip-locked couple on my bed, not sparing them another glance. I grab my shoulder bag that I am honestly amazed hasn't fallen to pieces yet and race out.

"Have fun!" R calls after me. I hear Luke start to say something before he cries out in pain. Assuming R slapped him for saying something stupid, I ignore it and continue down the stairs. I grab my keys off the counter and yell to my mom that I'm leaving.

"Where are you going?" she cries back, coming in through the kitchen.

"I'm just going out with Mike," I say and continue towards the door.

"You look very dressed up for a night out with a friend. You don't look homeless," she giggles.

"Yeah, well," I breathe and shrug, backing away and I manage to get a grip on the handle before she can say anything else. 

"Where are you guys gonna go?"

"I don't know, but if you would let me open the door, I would be  _that much_  closer to figuring it out."

She gives me a fond scowl. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay," I sigh. "Mmm... bye!"

"Have fun!" she sing-songs.

I roll my eyes and finally get to the door. I pause for a second with my hand on the handle, taking a deep breath and telling myself I just need to relax. It's Michael. Nothing is different. Well, okay, obviously something is different, but I can't think about that. I just have to go with it and act normal and not obsess over the fact that I'm walking into an inevitable end. I've accepted that, and I promised I would give it a try and... see if the before time is worth it, I guess. I have to just be in this moment. 

I exhale and turn the handle. The door opens and Michael is standing there.

No roses. No chocolate. No tux or limo. Just him in his ripped jeans and worn converse. The only difference I can tell is his nicer black leather jacket. Usually, if he wears a jacket, it's oversized and made of ratty denim. I love that jacket two, but it's kind of nice to see something so him, but a little different from his day-to-day style. I'm glad I'm not the only one doing just a little extra, but beyond grateful that neither of us felt the need to dress like people we're not. It also takes some of the pressure of a 'date' off. This is just us being us. That much, I think I can handle. At least for a few hours.  

"Hey," he says with a soft smile. His eyes scan me up and down, the look of awe the only thing that keeps him from being slapped. And the fact that I was doing the same thing to him. "I think I like this better than formal," he chuckles.  

"Yeah, well, this is comfier," I joke lightly, repeating in my head that this is just hanging out with Mike and the way he is looking at me doesn't change that. He laughs and shuffles his feet.

"My favorite is still no pants and a t-shirt," he teases. I roll my eyes and slap his chest. He giggles with a bright smile. I smile back, just a bit.

"Way to be cliché," I laugh.

"Now, I thought you didn't believe in clichés," he says, a smug smirk dancing across his lips. "I'm pretty sure I remember a specific lecture you spent a half-hour explaining to me."

"Maybe, but I wasn't entirely sure you were listening."

"Assume I was a cliché slacker? Can't even listen for a few minutes?"

"Whatever," I laugh. "Where are we going?"

"First, we shall have food in which we will eat."

"Thank you for that profound explanation," I tease.

"Jolly good," he says in a ridiculous posh accent.

"What in the fuck?" I laugh. 

"Don't question."

"Whatever, dude. Although you will have to tell me where this food is located unless you want me to drive around town and hope for arrows leading the way."

"You're not driving."

"Okay... well you're not driving so I don't know what you're thinking."

"We're walking," he answers, looking at me in the corner of his eye.

"Where are we going?!" I exclaim with a laugh. "You do realize the reason I drive is because I'm too lazy to  _walk_ , right?"

"Give it a chance."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope."

"Okay then."

"Glad we settled that," he chuckles and I shove him with my shoulder.

"So how long will this walk be?" I sigh as we turn onto the sidewalk. He goes left and I follow along like a fucking lost puppy—something I'm not a fan of. 

"Fifteen minutes, probably."

"Are you sure you know how to get there?"

"Me and  _Google_  had a chat. He gave me some tips." 

I smile at the sidewalk. "Smartass."

"Would you expect anything less?"

"Nope," I say with content.  _The same_.

We walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few blocks, looking around and I notice Michael quickly glancing at me from time to time.

"Hey, I have a game," he says after a few more minutes. "Wanna play twenty-one questions?"

"I'm pretty sure that's something to do when you first meet a person," I laugh, sarcasm evident in my tone. "I know this may be surprising, but we've met."

He gasps dramatically and turns towards me. "No! You're kidding."

"I know. It's shocking, isn't it?"

"My whole world has turned upside down!" he shouts and I give up on the little game to laugh. He settles down with a soft smile. "So, since I have no knowledge of when you claim we have met, let's play twenty-one questions."

"Fine. I'll go first," I sigh and he perks up with a nod for me to continue. "What's your middle name?"

He groans and throws his head back. "You have to go straight for the painful ones."

"Your middle name?!" I laugh. "That's fairly basic, if you ask me." 

"I hate my middle name. It's gross."

"It can't be that bad." He gives me a disbelieving look and I shrug. "This was your idea."

"Fine," he complains, acting as if I just asked him to plunge a clogged toilet or turn off  _FIFA_. "It's Gordon. Michael Gordon Clifford."

"That's not so bad," I giggle.

"Really now?" he says mockingly. "I have yet to come across something worse."

That's actually surprising. Gordon is not that bad, and I have definitely heard worse.

"Dude," I chuckle. "I know a Dick Hathcock."

"Hmm..." he ponders for a moment. "Yeah, okay, that wins."

"I wouldn't call that winning, but sure," I say and we both giggle.

 "Okay, my turn," he announces. "And no just asking the same question back, because that's just no fun. But since we're on the topic, tell me about your family." 

"Okay, well that's a pretty broad question. What about my family?"

"Like how many aunts and uncles and cousins. Have any bizarre relatives?"

I bark a laugh at that. "Bizarre works, yeah."

"Okay, so go!" he giggles.

 "Okay, okay," I laugh. "Well, I have a pretty big family on my mom's side. My grandparents have four kids: two girls and two boys. My uncle and mom are divorced. My other aunt and uncle are happily married to their high school sweethearts. I have fifteen cousins, including like marriages and kids. Hayden and I are the youngest, aside from second cousins. You'll probably end up meeting the little ones, soon enough. I am always babysitting one of them here and there. They all live nearby. We're all really close and I love that. It's nice having family as friends, because you know there are two things keeping you together, and that's comforting. And... yeah," I finish with a sigh. 

"What about your dad's side?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested, which makes me nervous, though I don't know why. Telling the facts of a family tree is hardly invasive. 

"We're not as close to them. My dad is from America, so they're all over there. He has two sisters. One of them helps out with my dad a lot, so that's pretty nice. I have... honestly, I'm not even sure anymore. I think it's like twenty cousins altogether. And then my grandparents both died a little while ago, I suppose. So, yep."

"Sounds like a neat group," he says. 

I manage a smile—only half forced. "Yeah, they're not bad." 

"Well, perfect timing, because we're here!" he announces as he comes to a stop. I stall next to him and look up to see a rather run down and familiar little diner. I look to him in question. He shrugs. "I liked this place, and you said nothing fancy."

"I'm surprised you knew how to get here. That was like two months ago."

"I may have asked R," he admits sheepishly.

"Well, you still remembered," I chuckle lightly. It's sweet that he thought about this place for tonight, but I've only taken the boys here once and that was way back when we had all just met. I didn't think there would be anything significantly special about it for any of them to make note of.

"I appreciate your understanding," he jokes, attempting a very posh curtesy.

"Idiot," I laugh. He smirks and motions for me to follow him into the restaurant.

 It's just a nice little diner and enough out of the way that there's hardly any hustle and bustle. My dad used to take me here nearly every day. He'd pick me up from morning preschool and we'd come here for lunch, just the two of us. There's a little toy track attached to the wall that goes all around. It ran on a motor or whatever, and had different cars behind it. There were some flat ones that were big enough to put stuff on. My favorite part was putting the salt shakers and waiting for it to suddenly reappear again, or if there were any people sitting in the booths, watch them as they see it drive by. Some would laugh and some would look around and I would hide in my dad's lap. 

One time, there was an older woman sitting on the wall next to us, a few booths down. I put the shaker on the train and watched. I wasn't stupid, of course, so I never just sat there staring. I obviously had to peak over the back of the chair so I wouldn't be seen.

 But I took my position and bit down a smile as I watched the train get closer and closer. As soon as the woman saw the salt on the train, she started laughing, and I felt like I had just won. I was going to sit back and wait for it to come around, but the lady reached forward and took it off the train. I was shocked. That hadn't happened before, and I wasn't exactly a fan of it. 

I whisper yelled to my dad that the lady stole the salt. Dad looked over his reading glasses and set the menu flat on the table to look over at her. He said we should put the pepper on and see what happens. I decided I was on a mission, and saluted him before preparing the pepper for when the train came back. I told dad to be lookout and make sure no one saw me, though now, I don't know what the point of that was. Finally, the train went by and I swiftly slid the pepper into its place, then sank low in my seat and waited for dad to give me the signal; this mission was too critical to be waiting out in the open. 

Very soon after, he tugged on his ear, being a little dramatic for my benefit. I gave him a nod and slowly turned to peak above the worn leather booth chair. 

I looked over and watched her grab the pepper from the train. I glared behind the seat when she looked up with a little smile, staring right at me. I kind of squealed and flopped down out of sight. I heard my dad chuckle under his breath and I rolled my eyes; he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. I waited silently until the train drove past us, still not coming back up and holding my breath. I listened for movement of the train until it came back around once again. That time, it had a napkin with writing on it. I carefully took the napkin off and asked dad what it said. 

_Hi :) I see you like the trains._

I looked around the booth at the lady, more confused than ever. My dad told me I should write her something back, and he handed me a crayon and my kids menu. It had been difficult to write without the lines and example words like my teacher had. 

_tranes is fun_

I put my message on the train and waited until the next napkin got there. 

  _Trains are very fun :) have you ever been on a real one?_

From that day it kind of became a thing: whenever we were both at the diner at the same time, we'd send our little train messages. After about six months of doing this about once a week, dad invited her to have lunch with us one day. I learned her name was Rebecca, but I should call her Becca. After that, she would sit with us every once in a while, but the rest of the time we kept to our game. Once I was about eight and dad would drop me off to do my homework and give me money for a snack, since I ate lunch at school then, Becca would watch me when she was there and help me with my homework whenever she could. She kept coming more and more often to hang out with me, and we ended up spending usually two or three hours together twice a week on the days my dad had me. 

After I turned thirteen and dad had me closer to twice a month than twice a week, I didn't see her as much. I would tell the waitress that the next time she came in to tell her the next day I would be there. I got to see her maybe six days a year and we would spend hours at the diner talking. Around the time I turned fifteen and life got busier and I started hanging out at the warehouse and I spent my days with my dad watching TV with him on the couch, it became more like once a year when we ran into each other walking in or out of the restaurant. But I did love her and didn't blame her for not trying to see me anymore. I had already learned to never trust an always by then so I accepted it. I never forgot the years I spent with her and all she had grown to mean to me. I do still think about her and miss talking to her from time to time. 

I arrive back in reality with a small smile and walk through the door. 

"Do you have a preference in booth?" Michael asks. 

"We can just sit in the same one?" 

"The usual?" 

"What are you so smug about, dufus?" 

"Not important," he laughs and  _skips_ to the table in the far corner of the diner. I roll my eyes and follow after him, sliding into the booth facing the wall, Michael sitting across from me. He sits up with his hands folded on the table. "Your turn," he giggles. 

"Oh... Um, okay..." I chuckle, forgetting we were in the middle of a game. "Favorite color?" 

"You suck at this game," he laughs. 

 "Don't be a dick and answer the question." 

"Blue." 

"How original." 

"I'm nothing if not unique." 

"About thirty-five percent of the population share the favorite color blue." 

"Says the girl with blue hair." 

" _Streaked_. Simply blue lowlights Have you seen your head lately? When did you die it again, anyways?" 

"I just kind of bleached the blue a little and it turned out kinda icy, I guess," he chuckles, pulling a few strands of his hair in front of his face. 

"Yeah, okay, whatever," I laugh and lean back, folding my arms across my body. "You're turn." 

"Favorite song."  

"Most stressful question that will ever be," I groan. "Why do you do that to me?" 

"Answer," he giggles and kicks my foot under the table. 

"Do you know how hard that question is to answer, for me?" 

"Apparently not." 

"Don't laugh if you don't understand." 

"Just give me  _one_ of your favorites. Doesn't even have to be your all time fave, just one you're especially into right now or one that means something maybe."

"God, why are you so frustrating?!" I laugh. 

"That is an excellent question!" 

"Idiot," I chuckled. "Okay, well... just this one I was listening to this morning that I've always liked— _Satellites_  by  _Sleeping With Sirens_." I shrug.

"I think I know that one," he says with a little smile. "What's your favorite thing about it?" 

"That's actually kind of a weird question," I laugh. "But I like the melody and mood of it; it's different and calming with this little edge that makes it interesting. And I really like the lyrics, so." 

"Give me some of the lyrics." 

I give him a look. "I'm not singing for you." 

He laughs, throwing his head back a bit. "Just say them like a normal person, then." 

"A normal person," I chuckle. "Have you met me?" 

"Good point. You're a weirdo." 

I scoff and throw a packet of sugar from the end of the table at him. He looks confused when it hits his face. 

"What the fuck," he laughs, picking it up and looking it over. "A sugar packet? You thought it was a great plan to use a little pocket of 'all natural sweetener' as a weapon?" 

"I don't have my spray bottle with me and you're annoying," I huff with a giggle I can't stop from escaping at the end. 

"Just answer the fucking question," he laughs. 

"Fine," I playfully sneer. "Well, I really like the quote s _ome say it's better to fall asleep and disappear_. Like there are times where it seems easier to just... sleep forever, you know?" 

"Never wanting to wake up..." he breathes, appearing to be deep in thought at the moment. I don't know what else to do, so I just keep going. 

" _It's time we finally look at what we've done and wake up. So here we are. We're waiting for a fall. And on the radio they're calling on satellites. Like they're going to save us all. So here we are. I guess I'm praying after all. We're calling all, calling all satellites. This is a wake up call._ I like that part, too. I go back and forth on how I like to interpret this song, but right now it's like all the things we've done has led us to end up here, and now we're just waiting for the disaster; for it all to fall apart. We can call for help, but we can't rely on people to save us because we can only save ourselves. We have to realize that and not hide from it because here we are and it's time to save ourselves." 

"I thought I was making some progress on changing your mind about inevitable ends," he says in the softest tone I've ever heard from him. His face is a perfect match and his eyes are warm. 

"Look," I sigh. "This is still just a test run, and all night I've been sure to forget about that part and convince myself nothing is different because it freaks me out to think otherwise and I still don't know if I can handle this and I know things actually are different and you're expecting them to be different but I can't let myself believe that because then I guess I'll expect that too and I can't have those expectations or any of that stuff or—"

"Hey," he cuts me off and I realize I had begun rambling and my hands were shaking in front of me. He reaches forward looking concerned and places his own hand over my trembling one. "Take a breath, yeah? It's all good. I don't know if telling you for the fiftieth time in the last twenty-four hours that I won't be going anywhere will help, but maybe one of these days it'll get through your stubborn head. I won't push you for anything you're not ready to handle, and I really don't want you to shut down like you did yesterday." 

"Sorry," I mumble and look to my lap.

"It's not something to be sorry about. It's just something I've never seen with you. And I can see you slipping back to there, so please don't. You don't need to be shy and scared," he assures. 

I take a deep breath before looking back up at him. "Sorry." 

"Stop apologizing," he laughs. "Since when do you do that, anyways?" 

"I don't know," I chuckle in exhaustion. "Sorry." 

"Stop!" he laughs again. 

"I'm sorry!" I giggle, feeling the mood shift back to light again. "I can't help it!" 

"Since when?!" 

"Since I do things to be sorry about!" 

"You don't have to be sorry about anything," he chuckles and rubs his thumb across the back of my palm. I offer him a small smile and his widens in return. 

"Sorry," I mumble. 

"Ugh!" he groans and throws his head back. When he sits back up, it's with a shake of the head and amusement tickling his features. "Okay, letting it go for now. I don't know about you, but all these up and downs of moods has made me hungry." 

"Yeah," I chuckle a little shyly again. "That one I can actually be sorry about. I tend to do that." 

He stares at me for a few moments and I can see all the questions mixed with wonderment in his eyes. He nibbles on his bottom lip in concentration. "One day I hope you'll tell me why, but not now." 

The corner of my lips tug up just a tad at his understanding. "Thank you. And, yeah, maybe one day." 

We look back at each other for a bit until he breaks the silence with a heavy sigh and a smile. 

"So—food, or nah? And I still have nineteen questions, so..."

 


	28. Chapter 28

_Who says when you fall you have to fall down? 'Cause I'm falling up with you now. I'm falling up with you now._

_[«Falling Up» The Cab](https://youtu.be/MeH15LaKrHE) _

\---

"So-so-so-so-how'd it go?!" 

"Okay, Em, you need to calm down!" I laugh.

"Well, come on!" she giggles, tucking her legs up underneath her. She leans her elbows on the table, but pulls back with a grimace when she realizes the wet blue paint already on the surface, despite being the first class of the day. 

"Ember, this is the most energized I have ever seen you at eight in the morning," Evan chuckles as he walks up to us, slinging his backpack over his chair.

"But she went on her date with Michael!" she laughs. "Where's Luke?! He'll know stuff!"

"It's too early for me to know stuff," the blonde bimbo grumbles, slinking down into his seat.

"Speak of the devil!" Evan laughs with arms held up theatrically in the air. 

"Yeah, yeah. So, what's Ember bouncing about?"

"Andi and Michael's date."

"Oh, yeah!" Luke says, his tone perking up slightly. "How'd that go?"

"Shut up," I mumble. I fold my arms across the table rest my head against them. Monday mornings are my enemy.

"Just spill!" she  _squeals_. I groan and lift up my head to glare at her. I look over to the guys who seem to have already lost interest and are busy discussing something that sounds like a game Hayden and Jax sometimes obsess over. 

"Fine. You have three questions."

"Okay," she giggles, sitting forward in her seat. "Umm... well, what'd you do? And that means at least  _some_  details."

"Ugh," I moan, but comply. I'll have to eventually if I want this to stop, and it's not that big of a deal, anyways. "We walked to the diner and chatted and had a good time and... it was nice, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, yeah." I shrug. "There was nothing huge."

"Okay, you do realize this is the same date you were practically terrified to even  _attempt_ , and now it was  _nice_?"

"I'm just... taking it one thing at a time. I'm more trying to not think about it. I won't do it if I actually think about it, I guess," I sigh.

"Well, I mean, I'm proud of you. This is the first time I've ever seen you actually... I don't know... put yourself out there."

"Yeah, I guess," I sigh. I run my hands down my face in exasperation. I know Ember is always a good person to talk to for advice. For not having a lot of experience of her own in this particular area, she is always damn insightful. It's impressive, really. 

"So what are you gonna do from here?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not thinking about it, but I also feel like by doing that isn't fair to him because I'm not actually... being  _in_  it, I guess. Like I'm not really  _doing_  it. It's just something that's  _happening_. I'm too good at compartmentalizing, I guess."

"Well, yeah, but you know that," she says and briefly lifts her shoulder to her ear. "It's not something you're not used to. And you keep getting better at it. You're still taking your medicine, right?"

"Em!" I hiss, looking to make sure the guys are still distracted in their own world. Luckily, they are still fully engulfed in their separate conversation and paying no attention to anything we are saying. 

"Well, I'm just making sure, you know."

"I know, but there's no reason to bring it up now-out loud! And don't give me that look!" I huff.

"But are you?" she asks.

"Yes," I lie.

"Promise?" 

"I promise."

\---

"Don't be a dick," Michael grunts, pulling Luke into a chokehold on the ground.

"I can do whatever I want," Luke spits back. He twists around and they tumble to the floor.

"Give up already," he grumbles, his voice strained trying to hold Luke down. "You're going to lose sooner or later."

"No, I'll win because Calum will be on my side."

"Calum won't get involved because Calum doesn't give a shit," Calum states without looking up from his phone.

"Fuck you, Calum," Luke grunts. "And stop talking about yourself in third person."

"Calum will do whatever the fuck he wants," he mutters.

"Argh!" Luke yells when Michael manages to flip him on his back and pin his arms above his head. 

"Victory!" Michael cries and roughly gets up off Calum. 

"Calum, you dick!" Luke chuckles angrily. 

"Calum doesn't care," he mutters. 

Michael walks over to me on the couch with a victorious smile and collapses beside me. 

"Hey, you," he says. 

"Hi," I laugh. 

"How was your day?"

"It was fine." I shrug. "Evan got paint in Ember's hair in art class so there was a bit of a paint fight."

"That sounds fun," he chuckles.

"But then Em and I had to spend the last thirty minutes of class getting the paint out of our hair."

"That explains the green behind your ear."

"Seriously?!" I groan, reaching to feel dried crisps of paint behind my ear. I try to scrape it off, but wince a bit when it pulls some hair with it.

"I've got it," Michael says and reaches across, leaning abruptly close to me. He cups my face in his hand, scratching his fingers behind my ear with a wondered look. I refrain asking him to back away a bit.

He focuses in on the pieces of paint falling from his fingers, while I remain gated in by his arm and grip. He bites at his bottom lip. I don't miss the way his eyes flicker to mine. His lips part as he swallows. He very tentatively leans forward, watching my expression carefully. 

I sit frozen in place. I wonder if he can see the growing fear in my eyes with every centimeter that disappears between us. I hold his stare, unable to look anywhere else. 

I feel his lips on mine. 

It takes a second before he closes his eyes, a second longer for my own. 

He timidly parts his lips. I focus on breathing normally and not freak out too much. This isn't the first kiss between us-obviously-but it is the first that I am aware to hold any meaning. Before, it was just a kiss: lips against lips. Now, it comes with promises and expectations. 

Still, I sigh into the kiss and give in a tad bit. It remains slow and simple, but that only causes more unsettling in my stomach. I'm used to feelings without emotion, that leaving little room for soft kisses and cuddling. I liked it that way. It didn't give me a chance to overthink anything, because there was nothing. 

Now I'm supposed to feel and enjoy loving emotions and be a part of the give and take in relationships. 

Michael pulls back, giving me a soft smirk, but his playful teasing still apparent. That helps me breathe a little easier. Things aren't completely changed. He's still an idiot. Okay. Good. 

"Get a room!" Luke cries. 

"Fall out a window!" 

"Michael, be nice to Luke," Calum sighs. 

"Be nice to Luke," Luke says, excessively smug.

"And Luke, shut you fucking trap." 

Luke pouts and Michael unlocks his phone. 

"Where are R and Ashton?" I ask. 

"R walked to buy orange juice after I threatened to throw peas at her," Luke says. 

"Where did you get the peas?" 

"Freezer." 

"Since when do we keep frozen peas in the fridge?" 

"Since I fell off the couch and my head landed on a paint can." 

"You can  _feel_  the judgement," Michael laughs. 

"Okay, but then why did you throw peas at her?" 

"She threw a drumstick at my head." 

"What did you do before then?" 

"Told her I drank the rest of the orange juice." 

"Well, then I'd say you broughts this all on yourself," I say with a shrug. 

"What?!" he shrieks. "How is it my fault?!" 

"You drank the rest of her orange juice! You know she loves her orange juice!" 

"Still," he slumps. He stares into space.

"I'm bored," Calum sighs after a pregnant moment of silence. "Can we watch a movie, or something?" 

"We don't have a TV in here," I breathe through a yawn. 

"Do you have anything on your laptop?" Luke asks. 

"Um... oh, well R and I just bought  _The Other Guys_  on iTunes the other day, so I guess we could watch that."

"Um-yes!" Michael laughs. "Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg  _and_  Dwayne Johnson!" 

"You do realize Dwayne Johnson dies within the first like twenty minutes, right?" 

"Yeah, but he dies cool, so it's okay," he says. 

"He literally jumps off a twenty story building without anything to fall on besides the cement. How is that cool? That's idiotic!" 

"Hey! He aims for the bushes! He just missed," Calum defends. 

"No, he  _says_  aim for the bushes, but if you notice--there are no bushes!" 

"He's Dwayne Johnson and he always dies cool, case closed," Michael ends. 

"I don't care anymore," I sigh. "Let's just watch the movie." 

All the boys, save for Ashton, of course, scramble to the couch. Luke and Cal claim the floor at our feet and we set the screen up on Ash's drum stool in front of them. The opening credits soon light up the screen. 

"Hey, Mike, would you hand me my blanket?" I ask Michael. He nods and reaches over the arm of the sofa to steal my favorite blanket from the mattress. Instead of simply handing it to me, he gently drapes it across my legs. 

"Better?" he asks. I give him a fond grin. 

"Want to share some?" I offer, lifting up a corner of the blanket to him. 

He actually gives it some consideration before nodding with a smile. 

"Sure, if you're offering." 

"I can be a good sharer sometimes," I hum, getting cozy with my legs tucked up under me. 

"All I'll say is that I will accept this rare opportunity," he chuckles. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mock. I don't fight him on it because, what's the point? He's not wrong and I'm tired. 

"Do you mind if I..." he trails off. I look at his arm raised in midair in question. 

"Um... yeah, okay." 

"Good," he says with an earnest smile that I allow to cause a flutter in my stomach. Maybe I could handle  _some_  of this stuff. 

He settles with his arm around my shoulders, adjusting to be pressed against me. I squirm to get comfortable in the new position. After a moment of thought, I give in and rest my head against Michael's chest. I feel him press a smile in the top of my head and pull me tighter so we are proper cuddling, at this point. I don't think I mind as much as I know I should. 

Around the part where Mark Wahlberg's character is preaching about peacocks, R climbs through the window. 

"What is happening, friends?" she asks. She walks over to plop down next to Luke on the floor. 

"Are you not mad at me anymore?" Luke asks with obvious caution in his words and actions. 

"You're still a dick, but I have my orange juice now, so I'm good," she says and holds up a lone carton of OJ, uncapping the lid and taking a few bug gulps. 

"Whatever works, babe," Luke chuckles and wraps his arm around her waist. She settles against him while milking her juice through a straw she pulled from the now-empty plastic bag once containing both juice and straw. At one point, Luke leans to try to get a sip from the straw and R all but channels a murderous rage into a slap on his chest. 

"I'm only happy because I have my orange juice after you stole it, so don't think you can keep me happy and also try to steal my new juice, buddy," she snaps. 

"It's just juice." 

R spends the rest of the movie with her head in my lap. Cal lets Luke pout on his shoulder until Will Ferrell is having his emotional breakdown, at which point Cal complains about his shoulder falling asleep and forcibly removes Luke's head. Luke spends the rest of the movie alone off the the side grumbling about bad friends and orange juice. 

I stay in Michael's arms through the entirety of the night.

 


	29. Chapter 29

_Things are looking up, oh finally! I thought I'd never see the day when you smile at me._

_[«Looking Up» Paramore](https://youtu.be/Iu7SbPki2VM) _

\-----

"Okay, you have to actually aim if you want to hit anything!" Michael scolds.

"My method is easier!" I laugh. 

"You can't just press random buttons until something explodes!"

"Wait! Where'd you go?! I lost you!" 

"I know!" he chuckles. "You've already killed me twice! I'm not gonna stay with you and your flying bullets!" 

"But I'm out here alone and I don't know what to do and I think the people are close!" I say, panicked. 

"Just hide!"

"But--" I pause when a zombie thing comes around the side of a building. "See! He's gonna kill me!"

"Just shoot him!"

"Shit," I mutter and try to find the right buttons to shoot my gun.

After a few tries, something is thrown out on the screen. It lands off to the side by the same building the thing came from.

"Why isn't something killing him?! I did something, he should die!"

"What did you throw?" he asks, looking distractedly over at my side of the screen when his eyes widen. "No! Why did you do that! That's a bomb and I'm in that building, dammit!"

"Well, run!" I shout helplessly, clueless on what he could expect me to do.

"I'm trying!"

I pay attention to his screen as he tries to run away from the time-bomb as quick as he can. He's muttering to himself about... whatever, just stuff under his breath. 

The bomb goes off, and he explodes.

His screen goes black and he looks to me with disbelief.

"What do you expect from me?!" I shriek. "I offered to play  _FIFA_  but you insisted you could teach me this stupid shooty-shooty bang-bang game! I warned you!"

"You died  _once_! You killed me  _three times_! How do you even manage to  _do_  that?!"

"Press random buttons until  _something_  explodes!" I yell exasperatedly. I've told him this  _so many_  times. "I'm sorry if you happen to be in the blast zone!"

He stares at me with wide eyes and jaw hanging open loosely. I stay where I am and look back at him, waiting for him to get over it.

"Laundi! Your presence is somewhat wanted at the dinner table!" Jax's voice travels upstairs.

"Be down in a second!" I yell. "Are you gonna stay for dinner?" I ask, turning back to Michael, ignoring his unchanged expression.

He sighs heavily, but mutters out a 'sure' and shakes his head.

"Cool. Michael's here too!" I shout out the door.

"Whatever, just hurry up! We're hungry!"

"You're always hungry! I cannot disrupt my life every time your insatiable stomach decides to cause problems!"

"I will shave your head in your sleep if you are not down here in thirty seconds!"

"Calm your tits!" I let out a sigh and look to Mike. "Let's go."

"Did he call you 'laundry'?" he laughs as we stand up together, heading out an down the hall.

"No. Laundi. The point is for it to sound like laundry because Jax and Hayden have small minds and are easily amused in those sort of things."

"I get it," he ponders mockingly. I slap his stomach and walk out into the hallway. 

"Kidding!" 

"Shut up and get over here!" I shout. 

I hear him laugh behind me. His arm comes and wraps around my waist, planting a kiss to my temple. I think I'm getting better at these moments with him, and am able to appreciate it without a breakdown. 

We make it down the stairs and Mike loosens his grip, letting his fingers hang loosely off my hips. 

"Finally!" Jax groans. "Go grab drinks for everyone." 

"Don't tell me what to do." 

"Auntie Jess said it, not me," he says smugly. 

"Whatever," I sigh and walk into the kitchen. "Mike, grab the milk and I'll get cups." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Don't call me ma'am," I chuckle. 

"Okay, babe." 

I give him a look over my shoulder. He just smirks. 

"Cheeky bastard." 

"Always." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I chuckle. "Hey, how many do we have?!" I call. 

"Auntie Jess, Hayd, me, and you and the boyfriend!" Jax yells back from the table. 

"Not boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend has a name," he responds with his head in the fridge. 

"Sorry! You and the blueberry!"

"Where's Hayden?!" I chuckle, smiling at Michael's stern gaze at the milk gallon in his hand. 

"Bathroom!" 

I open the cupboard and collect five cups, bringing them to the dining room table. 

"Wait, who's Auntie Jess?" Mikey asks behind me. 

"My mom's name is Jessica," I explain. 

"Oh, got it," he clicks. 

"Where is she?" 

"Telling Hayden to get out of the bathroom," Jax laughs. 

"Yeah, sounds about right." 

We chuckle and go about setting the table. We're done by the time Hayd and mom walk in. 

"What took so long?" Jax huffs. 

"I was playing on my phone," Hayden says. 

"You very conveniently went to the bathroom as soon as we were told do set the table." 

"Funny how things happen," Hayd laughs, unabashed. 

"Idiot," Jax mutters, but pulls out a chair to sit down at the table. 

"Have a seat, please," she tells Hayden with her 'you're being an obnoxious twat and you need to stop so shut up and stick some food in your mouth before either I or someone else slices your throat' look. He gets that one on a daily basis. 

We all take our seats around the table. Mikey sits next to me, ignoring the weird looks the little ones are sending him from the opposite side. 

"Stop being annoying."

"Never!" he cries. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mumble and grab the bowl of spaghetti. I pour some on my plate and pass it down to Michael. "Hayd, can you pass me the salad?" 

"I don't know. Can I?" he asks. 

"Don't start with me," I moan. I hold my hand outstretched across the table in wait while he stares back at me. 

"But  _can_  I?"

"Ugh!  _Will_  you pass the salad?" 

"Will you pass the salad,  _what_?" 

"Oh my god! Will you pass the salad,  _please_?!" I shout. 

"Yes, I will," he says in calm resolute and all I want to do is slap him. 

"I hate you," I mutter. 

I spoon myself some lettuce, this time reaching across the table for the dressing instead of asking the dipshit. Fuck table manners. 

While I'm at it and everyone is busy serving themselves, I pull out my phone under the table. 

_From: Andi_

_the lils are being twats make them stop_

_From: R_

_awww don't be mean tell hayden i love him!!!_

_From: Andi_

_um, no. and you're supposed to be on my side!_

_From: R_

_HAYDEN IS MY BOO_

_From: Andi_

_SCREW HAYDEN I WIN_

_From: R_

_I ALWAYS WIN_

_From: Andi_

_YOU NEVER WIN_

_From: R_

_IM WINNING RN SOOOOO_

_From: Andi_

_HOW ARE YOU WINNING LIKE HOW DO YOU EVEN MEASURE THAT?!?!_

_From: R_

_BECAUSE I ALWAYS WIN_

_From: Andi_

_YOU CAUSE ME STRESS_

"Hayden, put the phone away," my mom scolds, bringing me back to the conversation. 

"But Andi is on her phone!" he bargains, clutching his phone to his chest. 

"You're twelve! You don't even need a phone!" I huff and feel my phone vibrate in my hand. At the same time, I hear the sound from Hayden's go off, as well. 

"Who are you even texting?" my mom asks. 

"R," I laugh, mainly because who else would I be texting? 

"Hey! Me too!" Hayden giggles. 

"What? Why are you texting R?!" I ask. "I was just talking to her about you! What?" 

"No, you were actually talking about winning. And for the record, she won," he speaks like he's clarifying a simple explanation. 

"Why was I stuck with you?!" I groan in exasperation. 

"Because you would die a slow, painful death due to boredom and a useless life without me. You should be thanking me, I saved you!" 

"You are impossible!"

"Actually," he starts, holding up a finger for a pause. "I am improbable." 

I gawk at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. I can hear Michael trying not to laugh and, for the most part, failing. Jax looks pleased and entertained as he takes another bite of pasta, completely unbothered. 

"What does that even mean?!" I explode. 

"It means whatever you think it means!" 

"I am going to kill you in your sleep!" 

"You can't kill me! I'm like a ninja cat!" 

"I'm your sister! What does that make me?!" 

"The irrelevant one!" 

Dinner goes on like that and we end up chatting for the better part of an hour. Most consists of Jax and Hayden berating Michael in the ways obnoxious children would with any new boyfriend. Mikey gave it right back to them, for the most part. Mom excused herself thirty minutes, affectionately informing us that she enjoyed listening to the lovely interrogation, but it was time for her to be done. She tells the boys to do the dishes when we're done and for me to get the laundry folded. 

"You're helping me with chores," I say after my mom disappears upstairs. 

"What? I don't want to do your laundry," Michael argues. 

"Ha! Sucker!" Jax laughs and the two boys scurry away to the kitchen.

"Come on!" I chirp. I take his hand and forcibly drag him through to the laundry room. I open the dryer and start pulling out clothing, shoving some in Michael's begrudgingly awaiting arms. 

"I don't think this is correct boyfriend etiquette," he grumbles, lining up the corners of a bath towel. 

"No B-word, remember?" I reprimand. I am able to keep it playful, getting more comfortable and retrieving some of the lighthearted banter from our friendship. 

"I like the B-word," he pouts, admittedly endearing. I look up to watch him struggling with the same towel, somehow now folded into some sort of jumbled square. 

"Okay," I say. "Let's give me the towel, you fold shirts. Yeah?" 

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," he grumbles, but hands over the towel and grabs a t-shirt from the dryer. 

"You are a child," I chuckle. 

"Still not the right way to treat your boyfriend." 

"Said boy will be slapped upside the head next time he tries to use the B-word." 

"But his G-word is too much fun to watch get all riled up," he whines. He drops a folded shirt on top of the dryer and crosses over to stand close in front of me. He smiles as he folds his hands over mine, slowly taking the clothe from between my fingers. I fold my arms across my chest and pout a glare up at him. 

"No G-word either." 

"Really?" he whispers through a complacent smile, cupping my face in his hands. "What if B-word did this?" 

He leans his head down until his puckered smile touch my own pouting lips. He slowly parts his lips, barely opening enough to fit one of mine between. I don't make a move other than puckering my lips when he comes back for another. He goes to run his thumbs above my brow bone, smoothing out the crease from my glare. I let out a sigh and let my face relax between his palms. He breathes out an airy laugh from his nose, fanning my face, when he trails his hands down my sides. He slips his arms between us, lacing his fingers with mine, still crossed over my chest. He slowly pulls them apart without breaking his lips' touch on mine. I can feel his smile as he moves to drape our joined hands over his shoulders, disconnecting them to loosely wrap mine around his neck. He moves his hands down to my now available waist, pulling me flush against him. 

"Much better," he chuckles smugly in the brief space allowed between our mouths. 

"Don't sound so satisfied with yourself," I mumble. "B-word is not a required title for this." 

"Shut up," he laughs. He grips my hips and easily lifting me onto the top of the dryer, causing me to gasp into his mouth, but his lips are on mine again before I can finish the breath. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello strangers


	30. Chapter 30

_'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands, and breathe... just breathe, oh breathe, just breathe._

_[«Breathe (2am)» Anna Nalick*](https://youtu.be/jHEj4cRhm3E) _

_\-----_

"Hey, I have to drive my dad to the unemployment office so I figure we can just hang out there for a bit," Andi says as I throw my backpack on the floor in front of the passenger seat, haphazardly because schools out till the fourth term and I can. "I hope that's okay. He's gonna take a cab home, but I told him I'll stay the night since I'm there anyways. I'll take you home later, whenever you want." 

"Uh... yeah, that's fine," I say and slam the door behind me. 

"Thank you! I would take him another time, but I've been trying to get him to go for months! He finally agreed to go today, so I can't pass that up." 

"Of course. No problem," I assure her. I'm not going to tell her no. I can handle hanging at her dad's house for a bit if she needs me to. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! It shouldn't take too long and I figured you could just hang in my room until I get back." 

"Wait, I'll be there without you?" I ask, not sure if I understood that. 

"Yeah, I thought it'd be better. That way, you won't have to ride in the back," she explains, brushing off the fact that I have yet to even meet her dad, and now I am hanging out in his house by myself. "And it won't take more than thirty minutes, I promise." 

"Won't your dad mind me just lounging around his house alone? He doesn't exactly know me." 

Her expression changes to almost disgust within seconds and she scoffs a laugh. "No. He won't care, don't worry." 

"Well, I guess I'll be fine without you for a bit." 

She nods and keeps her eyes ahead of her. I settle somewhat awkwardly in my seat, not sure if I said something wrong. I did want to ask her about her dad's job--or lack of--but I'm glad I decided against that. 

The car ride is short and we are soon pulling up in front of a complex a few stories high. 

"Make yourself comfortable," Andi says. I walk further into her room. 

It's fairly small with just a mattress lifted a few inches off the ground on wooden pegs and a few stuffed animals, a window with the screen popped out and resting on the floor, and a small closet with no door. The walls are covered completely in blankets. They're not like the ones you usually snuggle up with, though. But they are pinned up in different angles and directions so that they hide any painted surface. They are all either black and white, or some have some dark blues mixed in. There's one that looks like a star map; one with a kinda creepy looking owl; a circle pattern thingy. Kinda cool how different but similar it is from her room at home. 

"I like it," I say, gesturing to the walls. 

"Thanks," she breathes. "We can't paint since it's a rental, but I would sooner live in a box than a room with four faded crème walls."

"Good to know," I chuckle. I walk over to sit on her bed, seeing no where else to rest. She looks down the hall, most likely seeing if her dad's ready or not, before mulling over to join me. She flops down on her back. 

"I'm tired. I wanna sleep," she groans. 

I lay down on my stomach beside her. I pick up one of the stuffed animals by her pillows. It's a cheap looking bird thing. It's made out of canvas or something and basically painted on feathers consisting of weird shades of purples and blues. It's actually a pretty weird looking thing--like something you'd find in an antique or thrift store. 

"Where'd you get this?" I ask, holding the bird over her head for her to see. 

"Oh," she mumbles, her eyes glazing over. "R gave me that. It's this special bird thing." 

"Special bird thing...?" I ask with a small amount of humor in my voice. 

"Yeah. Something like that." 

She seems suddenly distracted, for whatever reason. I play with the bird in my hands, turning it around and trying to see some significance to it. 

"Hey, Andi! Ready to go?!" her dad shouts from the other room. Andi groans and sits up from the bed. 

"Yep! Be there in a sec!" She turns back to me. "Okay, I won't be gone too long. My laptop's in my bag if you wanna use it to keep you busy. Text me if you burn down the house." 

"Got it," I chuckle. I lean in to give her a peck on her lips. 

"Okay," she sighs heavily and trudges back through the door, closing it behind her. 

I reach over to grab her laptop from her backpack, figure I can catch up on my YouTube trolling while I wait. 

I open the large pocket, grabbing the top of the laptop sticking out, only it doesn't come. I pull a little harder but it doesn't budge. With a groan, I reach down further into the bag, feeling for the bottom corner that I can grab onto. I wiggle it around, trying to slowly loosen it from its position, when I hear a rattling as my hand knocks something in the way. I feel around for it before I can pick it up out of the bag. 

It's a bottle of pills I haven't seen before. 

_Alandria Parker_

_Lamictal (Lamotrigine)_

_Dr. Tennant, David_

_200MG once a day_

What the fuck is Lamictal? I guess I knew Andi had medicine she had to take, but I expected it to be something you see on the shelves at the store. This stuff is all fancy and official and serious. There are no colorful swooshes or decorative letters. Just a typed, black and white label, with all this specific information. 

I set the bottle down next to me, continuing my manhandling of the stubborn computer until it's free and I log in, using Andi's password. I go straight to the internet browser, typing in  _WebMD.com_  and click the  _Drugs & Supplements_ bar. I scroll until I find it and its information page comes up. 

_Lamotrigine_

Uses

_Lamotrigine is used alone or with other medications to prevent and control seizures. It may also be used to help prevent the extreme mood swings of bipolar disorder in adults._

_Lamotrigine is known as an anticonvulsant or antiepileptic drug. It is thought to work by restoring the balance of certain natural substances in the brain._

Well, shit. I feel my heart starting to speed up, suddenly feeling like I am intruding and stepping over so many boundaries. But, really, it's not my fault. I honestly didn't expect to find something like that. I should've thought it through a bit more before doing anything, but it's too fucking late for that now. 

I do the first thing I can think of. 

_From: Michael_

_911 call me_

_From: R_

_what do you want?_

_From: Michael_

_for you to call me!!!_

_From: R_

_Fine, calm your fucking ass_

I answer as soon as the ringing comes through. 

"I don't know what I'm doing," I rush without giving her a chance to open her mouth. 

 _"Woah, calm down, dude,"_ she pacifies through the phone. 

"I'm such a fucking idiot!" I groan. 

_"If your realization of this is the reason you called me, I'm hanging up."_

"No, ugh!" I grunt, running my hand down my face and back up to thread my fingers through my hair, pulling harder than necessary. "That's not the reason. Or, not directly. It's still a relevant fact, though." 

 _"Damn. Who got your panties in such a twist you can use all those big fancy words?"_  she patronizes, laced with genuine intrigue. 

"Can we not make fun of me long enough for me to tell you the real problem, here?" 

_"Can I make fun of you later?"_

"Fine." 

" _Good. Now, talk,_ " she says, appearing to finally be settling in for a conversation. 

"Okay," I start. "So, I'm at Andi's dad's house because she had to take him to unemployment people and is coming back after she drops him off, but left me here so I wouldn't have to ride in the back. So she left ten minutes ago, and told me her laptop was in her bag if I wanted to use it, which—yeah, I don't wanna just sit here—" 

" _Hurry the fuck up and get to the good part where you make a mess,_ " she interrupts. 

"Okay, right, yeah," I stutter. "Well, I am in her backpack getting the laptop and find a bottle and pull it out and read it and I shouldn't have but I did and now I don't know what to do or if there's anything to do but I don't want to make Andi mad and she's just starting to let me in and just—" 

 _"Slow down!"_ she shouts.  _"What. Did. You. Do?!"_

I cringe, forcing myself to go on, "What's Lamotrigine?" 

It's silent for a beat and I'm beginning to think she left when her voice comes back louder than I've ever heard it. 

_"MICHAEL, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT IS, DON'T YOU?! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?! THAT'S A TOTAL BETRAYAL OF TRUST YOU KNOW HOW SHE IS AND SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BE THAT WAY!"_

"I know! I really do know! But I didn't expect anything really serious! I didn't think it through! I thought it'd be no big deal!" 

_"YOU KNEW SHE TOOK MEDICINE BUT YOU SHOULD'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THE REASON WHY SHE HASN'T TOLD YOU ABOUT ANY OF IT!"_

"I'm sorry!" I shriek. "But, I know! I can't go back!" 

 _"Damn right, you dumbass,"_  she mutters. 

"Okay, but," I reluctantly speak after a few moments. "Will you just tell me why she takes them? Like, they list things it helps, but there are a few." 

 _"MICHAEL!"_ she screeches.  _"NO, I WILL NOT TELL YOU, YOU IDIOT! THAT'S FOR ANDI TO DO!"_

"Right," I scold myself. "I'm an idiot, I just don't know what to do. Should I... like... should I tell her? Talk to her about it? Or pretend I never saw anything?" 

 _"None of those sound like particularly pleasant options,"_  she sighs, calmer and sounding just a tad more sympathetic.  _"But, I don't think lying to her about it until she decides to tell you. We both know that could take a lifetime. Instead of hiding it for years or until you let it slip you know and she freaks, tell her. She already has enough trust issues."_

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, holding my eyes shut tight. "You're right." 

_"I'm always right."_

"And modest." 

_"Yep, I'm the whole package."_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I breathe out. "Okay, well, Andi's gonna be home any minute. I think I need to think for a bit before she does." 

 _"Mmmm... see you later!"_  she says quickly and the line goes dead. 

I let my phone fall onto the bed, collapsing right with it. 

I know it wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't Andi. If she didn't have so many trust issues and she actually did trust me to leave me alone in her room, because that's certainly not something she would have done a month ago. I'm finally making process, and if I tell her about this now, that may be a huge step in the wrong direction. 

Then again, I mean, there was a decent list of things it could treat, and probably some less common ones that they could be for. It may just be a type of specific vitamin or some kind of lady pill. 

I could just wait until she opened up on her own. But, like R said, we both know that could take forever. And then if she ever found out that I snooped, it would be so much worse since I would essentially be lying to her. 

At the end of the day, I don't think I have a fucking choice. It's definitely up to me to be the better one with making progress in our relationship, which already doesn't exactly bode well, to begin with. We'll both get better, I'm sure of it. But it'll be a learning experience, no doubt. 

I hear the front door squeak. It's time to face the music. I think about quickly shoving the bottle back in the bag to hide it until later in the day, but it may be better and easier to just go with it, as is. So, I sit up, leaning back on my hands. 

"Hey, babe," she sighs as she opens the door, not pausing to look up before closing it behind her. 

"Hey," I say. 

When she eventually looks up, I grimace with a solemn look and I hold up the bottle. 

It registers notably quick. She blanches and I can see the panic in those beautiful eyes of hers, instantly regretting this way more than I imagined I would. 

"I was trying to get your laptop out of your bag. Heard some rattling," I begin to explain. She remains frozen, so I continue on. "I'm honestly sorry. I shouldn't have done anything. I should've just ignored it, left it at the bottom. But I looked it up, instead. I don't want to lie to you or keep things from you, so I'm telling you, but it's up to you if you want to tell me anything else," I sigh, running through the words on autopilot. Now that they're out and her face is still terrified, I let myself feel their meaning and my eyes start to burn. 

"What did you find?" she breathes, still not having made a move. "What did it say about it?" 

I swallow hard. "Will you come sit down? Please?" I almost beg, speaking softly, but the desperation to keep a hold of the situation unfolding evident. 

She chews on her lip for a minute, narrowing her gaze unsurely at the spot on the bed beside me. Finally, she shyly nods her head, inching forward slowly. Her reaction is throwing me for a loop. I expected her to scream and yell and tell me an inconsiderate asshole. Instead, she is acting like she did when we first started this. I think that fact worries me even more. 

She comes to sit next me. Or more, a few feet from me. 

"Which are they for?" I ask. 

She looks straight ahead at the wall across from her, face turned expressionless. 

"Depression," she sighs, capitulating to the inevitable discussion. 

I swallow with a deep breath. I guess I really expected as much. 

"And BPD," she adds.

"What's BPD?" I ask evenly. 

She chews on her lip before she answers, "Borderline Personality Disorder." 

"Okay," I sigh. "What is... Borderline Personality Disorder?" 

"I'm not crazy," she rushes, finally looking to me. "You just have to know that first, okay?" 

"I never said you were crazy..." I drag out. 

"I don't tell people about it because it has this stupid stigma. A bunch of arrogant assholes who assume that you're just a hopeless psych case. A patient that walks in and says they have Borderline is a doctor's worst nightmare. It's hard to treat and hard to diagnose. A lot of them assume it's a desperate, self-diagnoses, so they leave it untreated. Or a lot of the time, they misdiagnose it for Bipolar. Borderlines are expected to be nuts and irrational or even sociopaths. Seventy-five percent self-harm. Ten percent commit suicide. We're a lost cause to society." 

She has gone back to blankly staring at the wall and her words sound rehearsed and automatic. 

"You've done your research," I comment when she doesn't continue immediately. 

"Pretty sure I have the  _Wikipedia_  page memorized, by this point," she chuckles humorlessly. "Basically, it's behavioral instability, impulsivity, and emotional intensity. Childhood trauma, the most common catalyst. Relationships, of any nature, with people are difficult and complicated. Looking to others for answers about ourselves. Like, relying on them and their actions to show us who we are and what we're worth. Only hope the self-image they give us is a good one, though it rarely is. Or, we assume it can't be a good one. Assume we're a charity case.

"We reject and abandon everything to prevent being rejected or abandoned. Messing things up when something good happens in our life because it can't be real. Insecure to the point that anything that speaks is a threat because we're so worthless they must be better. 

"Mood swings. Getting really anxious or depressed suddenly, only to feel fine ten minutes later. Getting furious about the most ridiculous things. Never understood. Knowing no one can or will ever be able to understand what goes on inside my head. _I_ can't understand it." 

She ducks her head, watching her hands wring in her lap. 

"Dissociation is the worst, personally," she says under her breath. 

"What is dissociation?" I prod, my voice sounding almost as robotic and automatic as Andi's. 

"This one I actually do know by heart," she sighs.  _"Dissociation is numbness and nothingness; it is a feeling of being lost; it is floating on a cloud that threatens to suffocate; it is automatic speech and action without awareness or control; it is looking at the world and blinking to try to remove the blurry fog; it is hearing and seeing the immediate world and simultaneously feeling very far away; it is raw fear; it is unfamiliarity in familiar places; it is possession; it is being haunted everyday by unknown monsters that can be felt but not seen (at least not by others); it is looking in the mirror and not knowing who is looking back; it is fantasy and imagination; and, above all else, it is survival. Dissociation is all of these things and none of them at once._

_"It's a psychological experience in which you feel disconnected from your sensory experience, sense of self, or personal history._

_"Dissociate heavily under stress but then stress when you can't come back down to the real world._

_"Gaps in memory because the experiences in your mind weren't real as you experienced them._

"It sucks, and doesn't exactly help with school," she chuckles darkly. "And..." she sighs. "This is the part where I tell you to go, because we both know it's for the best. You argue and say it doesn't matter to you, that you still wanna try. But, in the end, you'll see you really should leave because all I do is cause headaches and pain. So, can we skip the argument and I'll pull the blanket over my head as you walk out?" she nearly begs. 

I groan and flop back on the bed. 

"Would you come 'ere?" I moan. 

She looks skeptical, but after probably a full sixty seconds of consideration, she tentatively leans back beside me. I roll my eyes and drag her until I have my arms around her and her head on my chest. I let out a heavy breath, and just let us lay there for a bit. I pet her hair back, twirling some strands between my fingers, and smoothing them out again. 

I know she's waiting for me to say something, but I let her collect herself in my arms before I speak up. 

Finally, I pull away so that her head is resting on my arm, but we're facing each other at eye level. I settle her in, wrapping my arms tighter around her until I feel her relax into me. 

_Andi's POV_

_Breathe._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

"Hey," he whispers and cups my cheek in his palm. "Remember at school formal? You were dancing and I couldn't take it anymore? I walked right to you and kissed you? Remember what song we played right before?" 

He bites his lip, but the corners curve up with breathtaking tenderness, his eyes alight with the same fondness and my eyes sting for so many different reasons, so I just gulp and nod. His mouth twitches at one side. 

" _I Don't Wanna Be In Love_. Remember what I said about being worth it?" 

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

"Yeah," I let out. "I do." 

_In,_

_Out._

"It's okay to be scared. It means there's something to be scared of. Albeit, that fact only helps to scare you more, but," he chuckles and I give him a look. 

_In,_

_Out._

"Sorry," he giggles, stroking his thumb across my cheek. "But, it's true. I remember every word of that conversation." 

_In,_

_Out._

"It's weird but I do, too," I breathe, already feeling drained. "You specifically told me not to forget it, remember?" 

His laugh floods his eyes; all the fucking pale emerald and dark flecks and curious wonderment dancing in glee of being the lucky ones that get to be the reasons for this boy's glimmering windows to the soul. His eyes are to blame and to thank for everything that's changed my life from something comfortable and safe to a world of unknowns and discoveries. 

"I did," he laughs. "And then I said that I am not just a 'fuck and forget' now. I said that you're scared and that you're worth it." 

"Pretty sure there were more 'fucks' involved," I mumble. 

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he admits, hardly bashful with his blissed-out smile. "But then I told you that you were going to try. I told you I'd show you that feelings aren't the end." 

_In,_

_Out._

"I asked you why you think that you're worth it." 

"Because you're scared," he says, voice more soft and eyes more glazed in remembrance, mind in the past and lost in reverie. 

_In,_

_Out._

"You said I ran away when you sang to me." 

"This part I remember word for word," he sighs out in contempt. "I said: You stayed and heard, then you felt, then you got scared. You felt something to be scared of. Then you said 'so?' I told you: So if I'm enough to be scared of, I'm enough to show you that there is nothing to be afraid of. You feel enough for me to feel back. I'll share some of mine and take some of yours. Make some room for good feelings to not cause an overflow and flood with the bad." 

_In,_

_Out._

"Then I told you I didn't want to."

_In,_

_Out._

"Yeah, you said you didn't want to," he solemnly reaffirms. "Then I told you that I knew that you didn't want to. I knew you didn't want to back then, and I know you still aren't sure you want to. I'd like to think I've made a bit of progress, that maybe you don't want to just a little less. Regardless, then you said 'okay'. You agreed because then you knew that I understood you. Or, at least understood enough to be willing to try, even with your reluctance."

"Okay, are you going to tell me why we're doing this play by play, please?" 

_In,_

_Out._

He smirks like he knows something I obviously don't, relishing in my obliviousness. His eyes are excited and elated and I know mine are full of restraint and trepidation and, well, that's not fair. 

"I know you're still scared, and you're still guarded and reluctant. But I'm still okay with that. I'm still here for whenever you feel like catching up. I'm here when you're ready. I'll be here, waiting a few steps ahead, showing you the way by example. I can show you how it is to be at that step." 

_In,_

_Out._

"What's your point?" 

_In,_

_Out._

"My point is that I need you to know what step I'm on. So you can know and so you can get used to it. So you can get there yourself and know that it's okay." 

_In,_

_Out._

"I love you." 

_In,_

_Out._

_Out,_

_Out,_

_No--_

_In,_

_In,_

_No-- it's in then out._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_In,_

_Out._

_Dammit._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Let's try again._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

_He loves me._

_Out,_

_Out,_

_Out,_

_Out,_

_No!_

_Dammit, no!_

_Breathe!_

_Just breathe!_

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out,_

_Out._

_Okay, that's a little better._

_Keep doing that._

"You love me?" I choke out. 

_Breathe._

"I love you." 

_In,_

_Out._

_He said it again._

_In,_

_Out._

_He needs to stop doing that._

_In,_

_Out._

_I need to stop saying it._

_Well, not it._

_Just, stuff about it._

_In,_

_Out._

"You don't have to say it back. You don't have to feel that. I know you can't, right now," he says softly. 

I fight to keep my eyes on his, feeling naked and exposed and scared and everything I never wanted to feel. 

_In,_

_Out._

"But I'll say it to you until you do, if you do. I won't ever assume anything, okay?" 

_In,_

_Out._

He stares right at me like a fucking lovesick puppy. 

The only difference is that he looks so sure. 

Not like a lost boy searching desperately for something. 

He looks contempt. 

He looks happy. 

He looks euphoric. 

He looks like he just won his life's hopes and dreams on a silver platter and now he gets to just enjoy everything it entails. 

He looks like he won the world yet it's only me. I don't look like I won the world but I have him. He has me and I have him yet he's happy and I'm scared. 

How does that make sense? 

He's amazing and breathtaking and, just--incredible. He should never have had to come into my life in the first place, but he's here and he's happy. 

He's happy to have me. 

I have him. He has me. 

He shouldn't have to be happy about loving a girl who is emotionally retarded because pills aren't enough to make feelings good. He shouldn't have to deal with that. 

_In,_

_Out._

"Why?" I question with blunt honesty and plain wonderment. "Why would you and why would you be so okay with that? With telling a girl you love her that you know can't love you back?" 

"You're asking me why I love you?" he chuckles. His hand turns over to graze my cheek with his knuckles. 

_In,_

_Out._

"Or at least, why haven't you left yet?" I ask. I can feel my eyes heating up and my heart starting to pulsate like a hummingbird in my chest and my head filling with butterflies on a mixture of steroids and Adderall. 

_In,_

_Out._

"One at a time, yeah?" he starts. His fond tone helps and hurts. 

_In,_

_Out._

"Well, I love you because you're passionate. You find something and you put your heart and soul into it. You're unique. One of the first things I thought about you was that you were literally different from anyone I had ever met. You're ridiculously individualistic. You live in the moment, and you're spontaneous. You let yourself be free and revel in it. You do whatever you feel you want to. You're curious. You don't take the easy answer or the opinions of the majority. You question everything. You experience life with such intensity and thoughtfulness that you get so much out of every moment. You get so much out of every moment and you save it. You're insightful. You draw from all of those experiences in everything you do and it dictates how you grow as you. You are compassionate. You try to ignore it sometimes, but you can feel what others feel and you help. If nothing else, you can share their pain. That way they won't be alone, whether you let them know it, or not. You're creative. The way you think is creative. How to explain that, I don't think I can put it into words. But it's you. It's all you." 

"I can't say it," I whimper, frantically shaking my head at him. "I c--can't say it, I'm sorry, I can't." 

"Hey," he soothes, petting across my cheek. "I told you you don't have to. I'm just telling you the truth about  _me_ so you don't have to doubt every little thing between us, yeah? Just breathe." 

_Breathe._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

"Yeah," I breathe. "Okay." 

I feel my hummingbird heart slow to a lazy woodpecker. 

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

"Good," he sighs, sounding just as emotionally drained as I feel. 

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

_In,_

_Out._

We fall asleep, me feeling comfortably safe in Michael's arms, too tired to obsess over the fear it would've caused yesterday. 

I ignore that terrifying fact, in itself, and just  _breathe_. 

_In,_

_Out_

_In,_

_Out..._

 


	31. Chapter 31

_It ain't easy growin up in World War III. Never knowin' what love could be, you'll see. I don't want love to destroy me like it has done my family! Can we work it out? Can we be a family? I promise I'll be better, Mommy I'll do anything. Can we work it out? Can we be a family? I promise I'll be better, Daddy please don't leave._

_[«Family Portrait» P!nk*](https://youtu.be/hSjIz8oQuko) _

\-----

_"What am I supposed to do when you won't get out of bed?!" Mom's muffled voice comes from down the hall, as I reach the top of the stairs._

_"It's your fault I can't get out of bed!" Daddy yells back._

_Mama lets out an exhausted laugh. "How do you figure that?!"_

_"I never had any problems before I married you! I was in the best shape of my life before you!"_

_I squeeze my eyes closed tight, gripping my_ Cinderella _cup even tighter. I turn the opposite direction towards my room, hoping I can fall asleep before they can finish and come to kiss me goodnight._

_I stop short in front of Hayden's room. It's only seven, but Mommy probably put him to bed early. I put my juice under my arm and use both hands to slowly twist the door open. I stick my head in and see him sitting up in bed with his favorite book mom always reads to him, although she probably didn't today._

_"Haydee?" I whisper. He looks up and his face lights up._

_"Andi! Will you read the story?" he asks, holding the book out in front of him. He's a smart little brother, even if he's only three and makes us watch_ Dragon Tales _every time I say I want to watch_ Hannah Montana _. I make him watch it with me sometimes. He likes when Lilly wears her Lola wig. He says she looks like one of those rainbow lollipops Daddy takes us to get when we're good, as long as we don't tell mama. Sometimes he even lets me get a bigger candy, since I'm six and a half and I am big enough now._

_"Yeah, okay," I say and climb under the covers with him. He hands the book to me and rests his head on my chest with his arm draped across my stomach. I nuzzle my head against his and open to the first page. He holds the flashlight up and I start reading out loud._

_He reads every time they say 'I love you, Blue Kangaroo' and I smile down at his cute little face excited to say the few words he recognizes. Every once in a while, I can still hear some voices from down the hall, but it's not as bad and I feel better knowing Hayden is cuddled into my side and not left alone to listen._

_I finish the story and notice Hayd fast asleep on my shoulder. I take the light from his limp hand and turn it off, placing it and the book on the floor beside me._

_The voices are more clear in the silence, but I can tell by their change of tone that they are close to being done and going to bed. Five minutes later, I hear their door open and shut. Footsteps walk out and I know it's Dad going to his office until Mommy falls asleep. That also means Mom will be coming in to check on us and pretend nothing is wrong, give us a kiss, and turn out the lights. I always do my best to be asleep by that time on days like these, but tonight I'll just have to fake it so I don't have to look her in the eye until the morning when it's all blown over._

_Sure enough, I snap my eyes shut when I see the door creak open. She walks towards us and watches, before placing a kiss on both of our foreheads. I can't see her, but I know the drill._

_She leaves, and I cuddle Hayden tight._

"Andi," a voice giggles. "Babe, wake up." 

"Snooze," I mumble. The voice laughs louder, arms trying to shake me from sleep. 

"Babe, your dad is home." 

"Ugh," I groan, finally rolling onto my back, Michael propped up and hovering over me. "How long was I asleep?" 

"Few hours," he says with a tender smile. "It's almost seven." 

"Seven?" I moan. "Alright, I'll make dinner." 

"You don't have to make dinner if you don't want to, you know?" he chuckles as I struggle to push myself out of bed, eventually giving up and rolling over him and onto the floor. 

"Then how would we eat?" 

"We could order takeout." 

"Dad would end up eating takeout every single day if I never made him dinner," I chuckle. "He would've already died of a heart attack." 

"Still," he breathes quietly. "Come on, we're finally on break. Let's go to the diner, yeah?" He walks up and hangs his arms around my waist. "We can bring him back something." 

"I don't know," I whine, resting in his arms. "Then again, I actually feel like he's finally... I don't know. I mean, he went to unemployment today. I've been trying to get him there for months so he can collect the money, something you would think would be enough incentive to go. But, he even got rid of some of his old junk lying around. I think he might finally be starting to... maybe get his life back in order?" 

He smiles fondly down at me. "I'm so happy for you, babe."

"I'm trying not to get my hopes up like I have so many times, already. But, maybe." 

"Yeah. Maybe," he breathes happily. "Well, now we have multiple reasons to celebrate. Diner?" 

"Yeah, okay," I sigh. He latches his arm around my waist, kissing my temple when we make our way to the door. 

\-----

"Andi, my little rascal," a laugh resonates behind me. I flip around to see a familiar red-head mischief maker. 

"Oh, you're kidding me," I chuckle, making my way over to the respective booth. "Becca. I haven't seen you here in... what? A year? More?" 

"It's been a while," she muses.. "Well, come on! Have a seat and tell me about your world!" She motions me over."

"Actually," I start, interrupting her as she moves her bag off the table to make room. "I'm here with my--my... yeah," I stumble. 

"Oh," she says, her interest immediately peaked. "Where are they?" 

"The dude with the black mess on his head." 

We both look behind me, to find Michael standing where I left him, watching us. I turn back to Becca with a laugh. 

"He's cute," she says, a knowing gleam in her eye. 

"Umm... Yeah, I guess. He is cute." I nod, face heating. 

"Well, if I'm not interrupting you too much, you're both welcome to join me. I'd love to talk to him."

"Um..." I trail off, looking over my shoulder one more time. "Yeah, okay. I guess we can do that."

"That's just wonderful!" she all but cheers. 

"Okay, just let me go tell him." 

"Alright, love." 

"Hey," I call, walking back over to Michael.

"Who's your friend?" he asks. 

"Well, you remember I explained the woman I met here with my dad when I was younger? Becca? I told you about her a bit after our first date here?" 

"Yeah, the train lady, right?" 

"Right," I say, the fact that he remembered admittedly bringing a smile to my face. "That's her." 

"Her?" he asks, looking over my shoulder. "That's Becca?" 

"Yep, and she wants to have dinner with her." 

"Oh," he breathes. 

"Come on, you've met my mom and dad before. Hayden and Jax are practically your best buddies. You can handle Becca." 

"Yeah, but... I mean, the others are your family. This is a woman you didn't have to let into your life. You willingly let her into your world, and I know that's a big thing for you to do," he explains softly. 

"Maybe, but... you can do it." 

"Very powerful words," he chuckles. "Really inspires me with confidence." 

"Shut up, and come eat," I laugh. 

"Fine," he begrudgingly agrees. 

I roll my eyes and drag him by his hand back to the table where Becca waits patiently. She perks up when she sees us coming over. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you decided to join me," she says. "I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. I hope this isn't a... special type of thing." 

"Don't worry, we were just getting dinner," I laugh. We both settle down in our seat across from her. "We just finished our third-term, so we're free for a little while." 

"Well, in that case," she starts and I already know I'll regret this. "What is your boyfriend's name?" 

"Becca..." I whine. "Don't use the B-word!" 

"Oh, hush," she scolds, turning back to the not-B-word. 

"I'm Michael, ma'am," he awkwardly greets with a little wave. 

"Call me ma'am one more time and I'll have you go pick your switch from the tree," she chuckles. "Call me Becca or nothin' at all." 

"Um, okay, Becca," he laughs, probably uncomfortably but I know he gets the humor. 

"So, how long have you been together?" 

"Um... only a few weeks, I guess," I answer. "Since the school formal."

"Oh, you went to the school formal?" Becca asks, as if it's some scandal. "You must be something if you got her to a proper school event, much less a dance." 

"Well, we weren't even together at the time," he chuckles. "My band played there so she got roped in. Otherwise, there's no way she would have gone. I don't think either of us would've, actually."

"Oh, you're in a band?" 

"Yeah, me and my three mates," he says. His face lights up a bit, and you can tell he's proud of himself and the boys. " _5 Seconds of Summer_. We're still pretty small. Mainly  _YouTube_  videos and some local gigs." 

"Oh, well, that's still very impressive that you're going for something like that, at your age. I'll have to look you guys up some time." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," Michael laughs. "We're still basically a cover band." 

"Hey, no, you guys have written your own stuff," I interject. "You guys just finished recording that new one,  _Gotta Get Out_." 

"Well, yeah, but still." 

"Don't be modest," Becca chuckles. "Did you help write it?" 

"Um, yeah, actually," he mutters, shooting a shy glance my direction. "I wrote a bit of it." 

"Mhmm..." she hums. Knowing the look on her face, she's caught something. "What's it about?" 

"Well," he sighs. "It's about being kinda stuck where you are. Like, there are those moments in your life when it feels like everything around you is falling apart, feeling like you just need to escape everything for a bit." 

"Anything particular in mind when you wrote this?" she muses. 

"I had some help with the... um, perspective," he laughs. "Borrowed some experiences." 

"I thought that might be the case." 

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at the familiar woman across the table. She catches my gaze, shrugging it off with a faux expression of innocence. I let it go, just for now. 

"You know, Andi used to write songs, too." 

"What?" Michael perks up, staring at my in utter shock. "Why didn't you tell me, we could've written together." 

"Believe me when I say you would not want anything I've written associated with 5 Seconds of Summer," I laugh at my hands. "I was like, ten, and they were about the most literal and mundane topics I could've chosen." 

"Like what?" he giggles. 

"No! Can we move onto something else?" I fluster. 

"Come on!" 

"I'll tell you about the one that stuck around the longest," Becca chuckles. "I believe it was titled  _Oh No, I'm Late_." 

"Oh, my god," I groan. "Why do you do this?" 

She just laughs good-naturedly, completely ignoring my complaints. "She even had a full choreographed dance routine for it!" 

"I'm so happy," Michael giggles. I slap his chest, but he just shrugs me off. 

"It was all about her being late for all of her daily activities, more or less," she laughs, bordering manic. "It varied every time she performed it, since she would forget some things here and add some stuff there. But it was always waking up and being late for school, then football practice, and dinner, and brushing her teeth!" 

Michael was definitely in tears at this point, while I had my head buried in my hands, trying to desperately imagine a happy place: anywhere but here. 

"Please tell me there is some sort of record of this," Mike wheezes. 

"Oh, I have a tape at home with at least five of her performances on it," she laughs. "Her dad made sure to get me a copy." 

"Seriously?!" I whine. "I didn't even realize he had that!" 

"Oh, your dad recorded every moment of your existence, when you were young!" 

"Still..." I moan. 

"She was such the daddy's girl," Becca gushes. "You should've seen them. She was his pride and joy, and he was her hero. They were the best of friends, completely attached at the hip. The two of us were just talking about when you were little, the other day. You were the most adorable child! You had everyone eating out of the palm of your hand." 

"Why don't I find that hard to imagine?" he laughs. 

"Wait," I interrupt. "When did you see my dad?" 

"Oh, he tracked me down, a week or so ago. We met for breakfast and talked through lunch," she says. "He said he wanted to catch up and say goodbye before he left." 

"Before he left?" I ask, all the other things in my mind coming to an immediate halt, while my heart feeds on the available energy and doubles its speed. 

"For America," she explains calmly, obviously waiting for me to remember what she's talking about and carry on the conversation, reflecting on more memories. "He leaves in the next week or two, doesn't he?" 

I feel Michael stiffen beside me, probably already putting together the fact that I was completely oblivious to this. He moves to rest his hand on my leg, squeezing tightly. I think we both know, though, that it's more of a desperate attempt to keep me together than for mere comfort. 

"Oh," I manage to get out. 

I can see the moment it all clicks for her that my dad has told me nothing about his apparent plans to move to the other side of the world. 

"Oh," she mimes, expression dulled similarly than when we were reminiscing on some of the more happy parts of my childhood. "He didn't tell you." 

"No," I sigh, no longer looking at her, or Michael, but completely focused on the world outside the glass doors just a few steps to my left. "He didn't tell me." 

"I'm so sorry, love," she rushes. "He probably wanted to tell you himself. He probably didn't know how." 

"When did you say he was leaving again?" I ask, ignoring her efforts to pacify me. 

"Next... Wednesday...? I think?" 

"As in a week and a half?!" I gasp. 

"I guess that's right..." she sighs. 

"My dad is moving thousands of miles away in a matter of days and he didn't mention it?!" I choke. 

"Honey, you know your dad, but I'm sure--" 

"No," I cut her off. "I'm sorry, but can I take a rain check?" 

"Of course," she says, more worry than sympathy in her eyes, for which I'm glad. "You know where to find me." 

"Thanks," I breathe. I turn Michael to motion for him to slide out of the booth. He nods and shuffles onto his feet, holding out a hand to help me up. I shoo it away until I am firm on the floor, then grasp his fingers between mine. This seems to shock him, but he keeps his reaction stable enough for me to hardly notice. I pull him towards the exit. 

"Thank you," Michael calls to Becca over his shoulder. I hear her say something to him, but my mind is already buzzing to different places.

 


	32. Chapter 32

_Spent seven years wishing that you'd drop the line. But I carry the thought along with you in my mind. But is this what you call a family? Is this what you call a family?! Family!_

_Why are you walking away?! Was it something I did?!_ _Did I make a mistake,  cause I'm trying to deal with the pain. I don't understand this, is this how it is?!_

_Why are you running away?!_

_[«A Trophy Father's Trophy Son» Sleeping With Sirens**](https://youtu.be/gdT-JG2hb8w) _

_\-----_

_Michael's POV_

"Hey, babe, where do you want your pictures?" I call down the hallway. 

Andi strolls lazily through her bedroom door, collapsing on her bed beside me, carefully avoiding the various frames and the unmounted bulletin board laid out across the mattress. 

"Just stuff 'em in a box and try not to shred too many of them," she sighs, her words muffled into the sheets. 

In the months I've known Andi, I've seen her withdrawn and silent enough times to know what's happening, but I've never seen her quite like this. I had actually started thinking that we were making some progress. 

She was laughing more. Not the mocking type, but actual elated laughter spilling from her lips without restraint. I even caught her swallowing her pills, one morning. I hadn't let her know about it, but I later went and checked the bottle. It was missing about a third of what I had seen last, so she had been back to taking them for at least a week or two. She held my hand when we walked out on the last day of school, the first time she had ever let me do anything even remotely intimate in public, much less in the middle of a crowded hallway filled with everyone we knew. She let me cuddle her more, wouldn't automatically flinch every time I let my hand brush her shoulder. She still hadn't worked up to using the B-word with me, but her eyes wouldn't shake at the mention anymore. 

I thought I could see that shimmering gold beginning to break through the darker shadows around her pupils more and more each day. I though she was finally on the road to becoming happier. I thought I finally saw that distance speck of hope grow in the distance, its possibilities becoming more and more real. 

In this last week, though, I've never seen her more thoroughly  _bleak_. 

Once I had gotten her inside the car at the diner, we just sat there until the sun went down. 

She didn't say anything. She didn't look at her phone. She didn't do anything. 

I luckily didn't have to prompt her to drive home. Eventually, she just turned the key and basically drove on autopilot back to the warehouse. 

She didn't even try painting until the third day. She had tried to draw a sketch, but gave up when she couldn't figure out a simple illustration and just went straight to the wall. She lasted thirty minutes until she set the can back down. She tucked herself in bed around seven without a word, ignoring the five pairs of worried glances. 

It took until the fourth day for her to finally go home around noon. She went to say hi to her mom and Hayden. She was back before two o'clock. 

On the fifth day, she went and made dinner for her dad. She didn't tell me much detail about their conversation, but she said it wasn't a big thing. She told him she heard from Becca, and he explained that he didn't want to have to tell her yet because he was dreading missing her, trying to put it off until the last minute. She lied and told him it was okay and that she understood. I don't know how much of a lie she thinks it is, but I'm taking it as a good thing that she's at least aware that a big part of her is not fine. 

Before she fell asleep on the sixth day, she finally said something about how she was feeling. I was concerned she was talking in her sleep, at first. She mumbled her explanation with closed eyes. I don't think she was aware she was having a conversation, but I just listened intently as she spoke. 

She told me she knew she was dissociating, and she admitted it hadn't been this bad in years. She said she couldn't remember what she had for breakfast, and I told her R and Luke walked to  _Macca's_  and brought us back food. She asked if she had coffee, and I told her she took a few sips of it before falling asleep in my lap. She laughed and said that she remembered Luke spilling R's orange juice, before she fell asleep mid-thought. It was enough to bring a conflicted smile to my face; happy to hear a hint of her laugh, but gutted at how completely lost she was in her own mind and in her own body. 

Now, it's day seven and we're all at her dad's apartment, packing the remnants of the home she built in a last effort to create a normal family life that was able to include her father. Watching as she took apart the place she worked so hard to keep in her life was enough to force me to look away at every longing gaze she kept on a random item infested with memories. 

Her dad seemed to be oblivious to everything going on in her head. When she was dragging, he asked her if anything was wrong. She waved him off and said she was tired. 

He didn't seem to notice how she was always tired. 

She was tired to the point that she spent every night contemplating how she was forced to wake up in the morning. 

She was tired to the point that after twelve hours of sleep, all she wanted was a nap. 

She was so tired that after three days of three-hour nights, it took her hours of tossing and turning to fall asleep. 

Hardly anyone questioned how she seemed to complain about being tired every single day. 

She was tired of life and hardly anyone seemed to notice. 

"This is a cute photo," I comment, picking up an old polaroid that was taken before they were a mainstream hipster fad. She picks her head up, looking over at the black and white picture in my hand.

"Oh, yeah," she chuckles a laugh that barely reaches her cheeks, much less her eyes. "That was taken a week after I learned my dad was leaving. We were packing my dad's office in boxes. Hayden and I took a break and snuck off to his treehouse. My mom came looking for us and snuck up the ladder to take the picture when she found us laughing at the story we made up ourselves from a picture book we kept up there. I remember coming up with a ridiculous plot line explaining the pictures, completely ignoring its original story and thinking of something else we thought was so much better." 

"That's cute." I smile fondly at my broken and beautiful  _girlfriend_ , regardless of what she tries to argue. 

"It's bittersweet," she chuckles. "Some sort of poetic justice. Seven days after it all decides to end." 

"You know, we can take a break whenever you want. We're almost done with your room, anyways." I rub my hand up and down her back. 

"Yeah, that actually sounds good," she sighs. "I'm tired." 

"Yeah," I breathe. 

"I'm just gonna finish what I'm doing in the kitchen. My  
mom and the guys should be back from goodwill in a minute." 

"Sounds good." I hug her tight and press a kiss to her head. She pulls away more briskly than she would have seven days ago. 

I abandon the photos and follow her out to get a water from the fridge. 

"What are you two lazy butts doing?" I laugh as we walk through the living room, sparse save for the left over reclining chair and television still propped up on its stand. Hayden and Jax are squished onto the chair together, hands clasped together between their laps, watching an animated show that has a white haired boy with a mask and red eye casually walking away from a room filled with collapsed rubble. I decide not to ask. 

"We're allowed to take a break, ya know," Jax snipes, sassy as always. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I laugh. "When did you start your break?" 

"Shut up!" he huffs, averting his gaze back to the screen. I do as he said, saving myself from a pointless--however entertaining--argument I wasn't really in the mood for. 

I glance down the hallway and hear her dad still rummaging around in his own room, continuing into the kitchen. I walk straight up behind Andi, wrapping my arms around her waist and hooking my chin over her shoulder. She tenses slightly, but doesn't acknowledge me, otherwise. She keeps her eyes on her hands in the drawer in front of her. 

"What'cha got there?" I ask. I hear her suck in a breath, but before she can get any of the words off her tongue, five loud humans burst through the front door. 

"Honey, we're home!" Calum yells out, obnoxiously. 

Andi drops the item in her hands. She turns and sprints abruptly out the door with a stark face and blank expression, pushing passed the shocked people still standing in the entryway. 

Everyone shares various looks of concern and confusion. I look at the discarded object haphazardly dropped in the drawer. 

"Shit," I mutter, immediately chasing my walking time-bomb of a girlfriend out the door, ignoring the shouts of our friends in favor of processing the meaning of the bag of green leaves the girl I love just found in her father's kitchen.


	33. Chapter 33

_I dream of another you, one who would never, never leave me alone to pick up the pieces. A daddy to hold me, that's what I needed._

_[«Confessions of a Broken Heart (Daughter to Father)» Lindsay Lohan**](https://youtu.be/B1N7LVnmkH8) _

\-----

I can't let the dam break. I can already feel the walls crumbling. If I decide to destroy it, it will destroy me. It's all too much pain and regret. 

If I feel anything, I'll feel everything. Over ten years... Everything will come crashing down. If I'm not numb, I'm tortured. 

I pace around the warehouse. Not in any pattern, just frantically trying to find something to help me get a grip. 

I don't get why this is happening to me! Why it has always been happening to me! I've always convinced myself I had a good life. I mean, I did. Sure, my parents were divorced, but whatever. A lot of people are. I actually believed everything was good. I was blind to all that was happening around me; what was happening inside of me. 

Looking back, I can remember the feeling of something missing; something that made things a little off; a little broken. I didn't identify it as anything besides how life is. I didn't really know anything else. When I remembered the first years of my life as being the happiest time of my life, I told myself that of course it was the happiest time. Life hadn't really started and things were easy. They  _were_  easy. They were easy until everything broke. I didn't realize that part wasn't just a part of growing up. I never realized how much I lost. 

A sob takes over my body and I give it the last bit of energy I have in me to keep it together even just a moment longer. 

My lips quiver as I whisper to myself, "He was supposed to be my best friend forever." 

And that's when I break. That's when the dam breaks and my chest collapses. It physically hurts and I want to cry out from the pain; so much and so many kinds of pain. My throat feels like it's closing up and I can't breathe. My lungs feel like they are made of sandpaper. My head is helium and is about to pop. My muscles contract and pull me into myself. 

Fucking hell. 

_Fucking hell!_

Why the fuck is this me?! 

Why am I this person?! 

Why do I have to be this?! 

I only got  _five_  fucking years of a father! 

Five  _fucking_  years!

That's not enough! 

I want more! 

Shouldn't I be able to have more?! 

Why don't I get any more than that?! 

A tortured scream rips through my throat that even I don't recognize and I clutch at my chest to keep it from caving in. 

"I was your fucking daddy's girl!" I scream at the ceiling. "You had your loving little girl but I got cheated of my daddy! How is that fair?! Did you ever think to think about that?! Did you?!" 

The tears and sobs don't stop as I wait for the sky to scream back at me. I wait for it to yell and scream and breakdown with me. But it doesn't, and it's just me. 

"Where the fuck were you!" I scream and throw the nearest spray can at the cement wall. I don't pause before picking up the next, and the next, and the next. A few of the cans have broken and there is paint all over the floor and my hands, but I couldn't give a flying fuck. 

A sob wracks through my check and I stumble over to the basket of booze. I pick up a six-pack of bottled beer and bring it back over to where I stood before. I take one out and skillfully hit the lid against the lip of the window sill until it pops open. The liquid hits my lips before the bottle. I chug about half of it and bring it down in front of my face. 

"Isn't this where it all started?" I spit. 

I give the bottle another second of admiration before hurling it at the wall. It shatters instantly, the liquid spraying across the room. The sound and sight give me a moment of breath before I'm chucking the next beer. Glass shards scatter the ground and shimmer when the moonlight coming from the window passes across them. I chuckle at the beautiful irony of the scene and send the next bottle flying. 

He was supposed to always be there for me. He was supposed to take care of me and pull himself together when I'm falling apart and need him to hold me. He was supposed to be my fucking  _dad_! He wasn't supposed to break me! He wasn't supposed to destroy me! He was supposed to be my mother fucking best friend! 

I drop-kick the final bottle across the room, ignoring the pain in my foot while watching it explode. I'm vaguely aware of the small glass shards piercing the surface of my hands and causing red to envelope my skin. 

I'm supposed to have a father that actually acts like a father! Not one that just loves me, but takes care of me and tells me to go change when I wear something above the knee and ground me when I get a bad grade on a test and punish me when I talk back to mom and interrogate any boy I bring home because he wants to protect me and flips out when he smells alcohol on my breath and won't let me go out on a Saturday night because I have an exam on Monday and I need to study! I want one that actually fucking parents me! I live in an abandoned warehouse, for fucks sake! My parents let me spend most of my life in a sketchy building with my best friend and four guys! What the fuck is that about?! Why does my dad not think that that's something he should be wary about?! Why hasn't he been here to check out if it's a safe place for me to spend my life?! Why isn't he a  _father_?!

"Ahhh!" I cry at the top of my lungs and collapse to the floor. "Stop! Make it stop!" 

My knees, elbows, arms, legs, hands, cheek, stomach--everything--are littered with pieces of glass stabbing through my clothes and into my skin. The little pools of blood already begin to heat my skin before a cold gust of wind flows through, sending a chill across the wet spots. The feeling is soothing and calms my body to a silent stream of tears and escaped whimpers of despair as I lay there in the shattered remains, my eyes lazily closed. 

"Andi?!" a distant voice calls, but I don't move to acknowledge it. 

"Is she gonna be okay?" a different voice says, followed by clattering metal and squeaky steps. 

"Can we just get up there and find her first?! It's useless to imagine anything!" I can now recognize R's frantic voice as it steadily grows louder. The second voice doesn't respond, and I am left listening to the clambering of their ascent. 

Soon enough, I hear a boot step through the window, hurriedly followed by the other one until they are rushing closer to me. 

" _Oh my god_ , Andi! What the  _fuck_  did you do?!" R shouts through her sudden sobs. 

I don't say anything. 

"Fucking hell, what is this?!" Michael's voice quivers. 

"I don't know! Just come help me!" R yells at him. Michael runs over to us, but I still don't try to open my eyes more than halfway. 

"What do we do?" Michael asks, sounding completely helpless. 

"I don't know!" R screams, sounding more and more frustrated. "There are a few bigger pieces that I'm afraid to pull out with her just lying here!" 

I didn't even think to consider if there could be any actual damage from the glass shards piercing my body. I don't feel the pain. 

I remain silent. 

" _Shit_ , what did she do?!" Luke's voice sounds from the window. I hear him and the other two pairs of feet shuffle over to us. 

"We'll question her later! For now, we need to find a way to get this glass out of her and stop the bleeding!" R shouts. 

"Can we move her?" Calum asks. 

"I would, but there's this one piece in her side that she laid down on as it was standing up that's bleeding a lot." 

"Luke, grab the rags from the crates and get them wet," Ashton orders. I can hear him clearing away some glass and moving to kneel next to me. "Do we have tape?" 

"Yeah. Calum, go grab it! It's in the same box as the rags!" R answers. "I think we actually have a little first-aid thing in one of those, as well." 

They both scurry off and return back with the items, handing them off to the two assumed-nurses. 

"Do we just take it out, now?" Luke frantically asks. 

"Aren't you supposed to leave it in?" Ashton asks. 

"Hold on, I'll Google it," Calum says and starts typing around on his phone. 

"Are you seriously Googling this?!" R shouts, sounding completely incredulous. 

"There's a wikiHow," Calum tells her. She groans and I don't have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes. 

"Fine. What does it say?" 

"It says the first thing you do is call emergency services." 

"No," I mumble. I don't say anything else. 

The room falls silent, waiting for any other response from me. Eventually, R grumbles and mutters a few words under her breath before continuing on. 

"Fine. What is the next step?" 

"It says some warning stuff and then to make the person as comfortable as possible," Calum answers. 

"We're going to skip the comfy part, for now." 

"Okay..." he says. "In that case, cut or tear clothing from around the wound. Luke, grab the scissors." 

A moment passes and he is back with the object. He hands it off to Ashton. 

"Okay, I'm just going to cut her shirt down her other side and split it. Then I can just cut off the extra stuff on the sides and we don't have to lift her, just yet." 

Everyone murmurs in agreement before I feel a tug on my top. I flinch away when the cool metal brushes my skin, but Ashton ignores me and continues shredding my shirt. Once the fabric is off most of my upper half and I am left in just a plain black bra, I feel Ash sit back on his heels and look over me for what to do next. 

"Wiki says to wrap in bulky bandages," Calum offers. 

"Okay..." Ashton says, still lost in his own thoughts. 

Why he was the best choice in doctor-for-a-day, I will never know. 

"I bet if we wrap it up well enough, we could pull it out and have enough pressure to stop the bleeding," Luke says. 

Why isn't Luke in charge? 

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Let's do that," Ashton mutters and sets off to work. 

About fifteen minutes later, they have managed to duct tape cloth rags about an inch thick around the wound and extend out a few inches in every direction surrounding it. They were able to wrap duct tape all the way around my torso a few times to secure it in place. Through it all, they hardly moved me. 

"Okay, are we ready to take it out?" Ash asks. 

"Yep. I got the top rag ready," R replies. 

Ashton mutters something along the lines of 'yes' and slowly starts to tilt me towards him, my back resting against his lap. The side of my torso is slightly exposed. Apparently enough to remove the shard, though, for the next thing I feel is a weird sensation of something moving beneath my skin before it disappears and is replaced with a cold waft of air. I feel a warm liquid begin streaming down my side briefly before it is absorbed into the make-shift bandaging. It's only a few seconds later that the next cloth is placed over the place where the glass had been, successfully closing the gap. They wrap a few more pieces of tape around me. 

"Now what?" R breathes, sounding slightly relieved now that it seems they managed to get through the worst part. 

"We need to get her off the ground and start getting the smaller pieces of glass out of her," Ash says, his tone similar to R's. 

"Okay. Can we move her to the couch without hurting her?" 

"Yeah, let's try it." 

The group all trade commands with the each other as they gather around my body and try to find a safe place to grip. Eventually, they are all able to find a safe position for them to carry me and I'm set down on the soft cushions. The feeling sends a wave of relaxation through my bones and I feel my eyes drooping on their own. 

I only get a second or two of that contentment, for I am hurriedly being pulled up into a sitting position. 

"Andi, you can't fall asleep yet," Luke tells me, looking me straight in the eyes. I give him a little nod and he gives me a tight smile back. 

They all start speeding around me with a set of tweezers and wet cloths. They clear off my hands with ease, so at least I know I can move those without stabbing myself. 

"Michael! Would you mind pulling yourself together and get over here?!" Ashton snaps. I flick my eyes over to find Michael in the same squatting position he was when he first came in. I hadn't even noticed that he hadn't moved or said a word since this whole thing really started. He is just staring at the ground in front of him, now pooled with my blood. The amount is shocking, actually. There is a sufficient amount of thick red liquid laying in front of Michael. 

Ashton's voice takes a few seconds to register in his mind before he looks back over his shoulder at us. His eyes look tired and distant. 

"Are you gonna help?" Ash prods. 

He's only being a dick because he's panicking a bit, but I still feel he can reign it in enough to not reprimand Michael for getting a bit lost in his own head. I'd say it's reasonable enough, for the situation. 

Still, he nods and starts to walk over. 

"Sorry," he mutters. Luke looks up from my face and gives him a comforting smile, letting him know it was perfectly okay. 

"Wanna do something to help?" Luke asks softly. 

"'Course," Michael whispers, and the sound of helplessness in his voice washes a new round of despair over me. Luke has a small smile on his face.

"Great. Would you come hold Andi's hand?" 

Michael's eyes light up a bit and he breathes out a comfortable sigh. 

"Of course." 

I send him a tiny smile--the best I can manage--and he comes to sit next to me on the couch. He takes my hand in his after checking for any leftover pieces of glass on my skin. Ignoring the rest of our friends still working on cleaning me off, he tilts my head up and lightly kisses my lips. Somehow this whole event has turned me from frantic to exhausted. Blame it on the adrenaline and breakdown, or Michael. Either way, I feel more at ease than I have in the last two weeks. 

Mikey pulls away and leans his forehead against mine, his lips still ghosting mine as he breathes. 

"I love you," he whispers, nudging my nose with his. 

"I like you," I whisper back with a genuine--still small, but genuine--smile. He breathes a quiet and nearly euphoric laugh. 

"Yay." 

\-----

"I warned her. I told her so many times." R pauses to hiccup with a sniffle. 

I don't open my eyes, but feel my mind starting to shake some of the grogginess off. My body aches. My head hurts. My chest hurts. 

"I told her it would hurt her so much worse if she just pushed it all down. I never thought that when she broke, it would be because the weight doubled. This is gonna crush her. She's reached her breaking point. She broke. She's broken. What--what do we do?" she sobs, soon muffled in someone's shirt. 

"Shh... It'll be okay," Luke soothes, sniffling a bit himself. 

"I can't see her so broken," Michael's shaky voice whispers. "I can't see her completely broken. And I don't see a way out of this. He's her dad. She can't just get another one and make it all better. She never gets to have the dad she deserves. That's all she wants in this world. She just wants her fucking dad," he says, breaking into sobs. "I don't know how to fix this. I want to fix this. I want to fix this so badly. She can't go the rest of her life without the man she fought to hold onto for so long. She wanted him so badly that she sacrificed everything she was, even if she can't see it. She grew up at age five, and ever since she's been trying to bring back the family she briefly had. She just wants her family back. Why can't she fucking have that?" He completely breaks down into sobs and I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. I don't want them to know I'm awake yet. 

I hear the rest of the boys sobbing. Quiet huffs and gasps for air fill the room, along with restrained wails of tears. 

"Michael," I whisper, my voice hoarse and squeaky. He seems to hear it, though. 

"And," he breathes out a breath like he's been holding it in, just waiting for me to prove I was still breathing. His lip quivers and his eyes are glossed over with concern and tears as he quickly rushes over to me. He collapses onto the mattress and pulls me against his chest. I snuggle into his neck. 

"Mikey," I cry, feeling another string of tears behind my eyelids. 

"Shhh... I'm right here," he sobs. "We all are." 

I hear shuffling and sniffles until another body is pressed up against my back, body wracked with cries. I can tell R's sobs from miles away. 

"I'm here, too," she manages to get out between gasps. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel my cheeks being flooded. 

Soon enough, the mattress shifts beneath me once more. 

"We're all here," Calum muffles against Mikey's shoulder. 

"We love you, Andi," Luke suddenly sobs and I can hear him falling apart behind R. I'm not even really breathing anymore. At this point, my chest is just caving in in time with my heart. Somehow air gets to my lungs, but it's a miracle to me. I bite the inside of my lip until I taste metallic, trying to keep it together as best I can. R probably knows what I'm doing. She's seen it enough times to know when I'm trying to real it back in. Usually it's before a breakdown, but I wasn't strong enough this time. 

"Don't you fucking dare, Alandria Parker. I don't give a shit if you are trying to be strong anymore. The person you thought you had to be strong for isn't your problem anymore. Hayden and your mom are at home, safe and sound. It's just us here so you will mother fucking lose it and let yourself finally feel this shit," R scolds through her tears. 

"I hate feeling this pain," I choke out. 

"I know babe, but it also means you'll be able to feel the good again. You have a chance to have the life you remember when you were young. It may be a little bit different, but that feeling will be there. You can be happy again." 

I gulp, physically trying to swallow the uneasy feeling in my stomach and throat. I feel my torso cave in, curling up against Mikey and R moves to spoon me tighter. 

"Why don't I get to have a dad?" 

"I don't know, baby," Michael comforts. "I wish I did. To be quite honest, I hate him. I hate him. I him so much. I hate how much pain he's caused you. I hate that he isn't what you need him to be. I hate that you feel so hopeless and cheated. I hate him for breaking your heart." He kisses my head and I feel a few tears fall. 

"I just want my family back," I cry. 

"You have us," Luke says. "I swear we'll be your family. I promise we will take care of you."

"Thank you," I whisper--I just can't say the other thing. 

"We love you, too," they all chorus back. I guess they get that. 

We all cry ourselves to sleep, curled up and squeezed together in our little home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and everything is on the road to hell


	34. Chapter 34

_You're not alone, there is more to this, I know! You can make it out. You will live to tell._

_[«You're Not Alone» Saosin](https://youtu.be/x7v3ol5OEfE) _

\-----

"Andi," a voice whispers in my ear, close enough for me to feel the breeze of their breath. "Andi, babe, I need you to wake up." 

As I move onto my back with a tired sigh, a sharp pain shoots up my left side. 

"Shit," I hiss, closing my eyes tight and leaving my mouth open as I gape for breath. "Fucking hell!" 

"Hey, hey, hey," Michael soothes. I feel a dip in the bed beside me, jostling my body and sending another wave of pain through my body. 

"Michael, what hurts?" I force out. 

"We pulled a big piece of glass out from your side last night," he reminds me calmly. 

"What time is it?" 

"It's almost five." 

"In the morning?" I moan. 

"No, babe, the sun's about to set. It's five at night." 

"What do you mean? How long have I been asleep?"

"You've been asleep for about seventeen hours." 

"What?!" I shriek, instantly sitting up and causing the worst amount a physical pain I've ever felt in my life. I cry out and grip my side, huffing out puffs of air. 

"Andi, I need you to calm down," Michael hushes me, suddenly much more urgent. "You have a big hole in the side of your stomach that is being held together by rags and duct tape. That's the reason I woke you up. We need to check it out and get to an emergency room." 

"Fucking!" I hiss at the pain as I physically flinch away at the suggestion. "I'm not going to a hospital!" 

"Andi, you have a huge hole in your body. It was in there a good three centimeters. Maybe even four," Luke says. I look up from the mattress to see the rest of them hovering around me. 

"Okay, well, if it pierced any of my organs, I would probably be dead or throwing up blood by now." I feel Michael flinch next to me at the harsh words. "I'm sorry, but that's a real thing with this stuff, right? Death?" 

"Exactly why we need to get you to a hospital!" Ashton groans. "None of us are exactly surgeons or know anything about how to fix a hole in someone's body! We barely kept you from bleeding out!" 

"I'm not going to the hospital!" I scream. "If I go to the hospital, it'll get back to my dad and that's  _so_  not a situation I can deal with, right now." 

"We have to do something," Mike sighs. He reaches to thread his fingers through mine, gripping them tight. "You have to see a doctor, somehow. They have to check it out and make sure it doesn't get infected. It could necrotize and the side of your stomach isn't the kind of thing they can amputate. And if it doesn't get treated, it could spread to your blood stream and it could kill you." 

"Did you go to med school while I was asleep?" I skeptically ask. 

"A lot of  _Googling_  can be done in nineteen hours," he laughs. 

"But," I sigh. "That doesn't change the fact that I don't want anyone to know about this. If I go to my doctor, it'll obviously get back to my parents."

"I have a weird idea," R suddenly speaks up. Her eyes are red and puffy and she looks exhausted. "It's idiotic, is what it actually is, but..." 

"But...?" Cal prompts. 

"But," she sighs. "If the only way you'll get help is if your parents don't know, then an idiotic solution is the only cure for an idiotic decision." 

"Come on," I grumble, giving her a look. "Just, what's the idea?" 

"Well, if you go to the local hospital, your doctor will know you or someone we know will recognize us and it'll be inevitable that it'll get back to your parents. But if we go to a hospital, say, in Sydney? It's a good hour out of the way and maybe we can find a free clinic." 

"But won't they still need a legal guardian?" Luke asks. 

"She turned eighteen last week," R sighs. "She's not a minor." 

"What do you mean?!" Michael screeches, flipping towards me. "It was your birthday?! It was your eighteenth birthday and you didn't think to mention it?!" 

"It's not a big deal," I say. "We just did a little family thing. My dad came over and we had cake and I got a few gifts." 

"Why didn't you tell us?!" Ashton yells, sounding surprisingly almost more betrayed than Michael. 

"Are you one of those people that hate birthdays?" Cal asks. 

"No. But, I just wasn't exactly in the mood for a celebration this year," I mumble. Mikey squeezes my hand harder. 

"You still could've told us," Ash mutters under his breath. If my abdomen didn't have its own pulse, I'd coo at him being all adorable. 

"Can we move on?" I moan. "So, this Sydney thing?" 

"It isn't the worst idea," Mike sighs heavily. "I'm not exactly the plan's number one fan, but if it'll mean you see a doctor, I'm in." 

"I'm pretty sure I can convince my parents to let me go on a little trip," Cal says. 

"I'll pull a few strings," Ash agrees. 

"Mine may take a little more convincing," Luke mumbles. 

"Tell them that your friend is going through a hard time and you're all getting away for a bit," R says. "You'll figure something out." 

Luke nods begrudgingly, probably not looking forward to dealing with that conversation. 

"So... we're going to Sydney?" I ask. 

We each exchange a look, ultimately seeing the mutual decision in each other's eyes. 

"I guess we are going to Sydney." 

\-----

"Will you grab my laptop?" I ask Michael as he clatters around my room, gathering some of my things. 

"Yeah," he says, unplugging it and shoving everything into my backpack. 

"How long do you think we'll be there?" I ask, trying to take calming breaths, ignoring the blinding pain and waves of nausea, that only seem to be getting worse, the best I can. 

I already managed to drive us home, first dropping the rest at their houses to grab stuff. Cal is going to walk to Michael's to get his things, while he helps me. 

"I'm not really sure. But, I'm gonna be safe and say a week, just in case." 

"A  _week_?" I groan. "Ugh!" 

"I don't know what else to tell you," he chuckles. 

"Tell me I can stay home and sleep forever." 

"I can't tell you that," he sighs. "But, it would be nice if you could stop mentioning how easy it would be for you if you just didn't ever wake up again." 

His comment catches me by surprise. I look up to find him standing up straight in the middle of my room, staring back at me. 

"I didn't mean it like that," I mumble, feeling suddenly small. 

"You did, a little bit," he huffs. "It's okay, though. I mean, it's not  _okay_ , but I get the difference. But could you still just not go there? At least for me?" 

"Yeah, okay," I whisper. "You ready?" 

"Yep," he says and slings the bag over his shoulder. "But you're so not driving us, so we're calling a cab." 

"What?!" I shriek. "A cab costs money! That'll be at least a hundred without traffic and everything! And I'm already gonna be using all my savings to pay for a freaking hospital!" 

"Babe," he sighs, plopping down on his knees in front of me. "You flinch every time you move or lift a finger. You can't spend an hour behind the wheel, and you know it." 

I scoff and roll my eyes at him. I try to pout and cross my arms over my chest, but I have to hold back a sob the moment I do. 

"Dammit," he sighs. "Babe, take it easy."

"Can we just go, already?" I whine, ready to be done with all of this. "I called my mom and explained while you were in the bathroom, so we should be good. She even said I could take the hundred fifty out of the cookie jar." 

"You keep a hundred and fifty dollars in a cookie jar?"

"Hey! It's emergency money!" I laugh. 

"Well, hey, she's being damn accepting of it, then," he chuckles. 

"My dad is moving to America... I think she gets that I'd like to get away for a bit." 

"Fair enough," he says. "Then, are we ready?" 

"Yep! Let's grab the hundo from the cookie jar!" 

"Don't ever say  _hundo_  again," I laugh. 

\-----

_Michael's POV_

"Guys, it hurts," Andi groans. 

We're all sat in a minivan cab type of vehicle. It's technically just a cab, I just didn't realize they had this thing, I suppose. R and I are sat on either sides of Andi in the back, Luke and Calum in the two seats ahead of us on either sides of the aisle, and Ashton up front with the driver. We've been on the road for maybe forty-five minutes, but hit some traffic a bit ago and are still a half-hour out. Andi has been getting worse since we left, which is what we imagined would happen. There's nothing to distract her while she's just sitting in a car. But she's gotten really whiny in the last fifteen minutes, which is unnerving, considering she would rather wring her own neck before admitting she needs help. 

"We'll be there soon, I promise," I mumble into her hair. She turns her head into my neck, and I can feel her muscles cringing against me. 

"It really hurts," she winces into my skin. She further curls into me, her hand over the spot of pain between our bodies. "It really hurts, Mikey." 

"Shh... I know," I soothe, petting her hair out of her face. 

I reach to rest my hand over hers on her side. It's an awkward fit, but I don't know what else to do. She makes room for my fingers to fit between hers and relaxes into me. 

"What the...?" I startle. I pull my hand in front of me, to find my fingertips tainted with blood. "Andi..." 

"Woah, what happened?!" R asks. 

"I don't know," I mumble and pull Andi's own hand away, hers even more stained with the deep red. 

"It's been doing that for a little while," she mumbles. 

"A little while?!" R shrieks. "How long is a little while, Andi?!" 

"Maybe an hour? Like... right before we left the house," she sighs. "I'm tired." 

"No, stop being tired!" R shouts, reaching to slap her cheek, startling her to open her eyes wide. 

"We're almost there, yeah?" I tell her, putting my hand back in its place and applying pressure. "Can you hang on for twenty-five more minutes?" 

"My head hurts..." she whines. 

"Is everything alright back there?" the cabbie asks over his shoulder, eying the rear view mirror. 

"Yeah, just--just how long till we're there?" 

"How hurt is she?" he asks suspiciously, his deep voice actually soothing. 

"Enough that we'd like to be there as soon as possible," I say as nicely as I can. 

He watches us in the mirror, having some sort of internal debate with himself while we wait for the next car to budge ahead. 

"Yeah, alright," he sighs. He looks around the lanes, switching on his right blinker. "I'll see what I can do." 

"What are you gonna do...?" Luke huffs a laugh of mild disbelief. "Can't control when there's traffic." 

"No," he breathes, inching across to the next lane between two larger trucks. "But I can get out of it. We can take surface streets from here. If we're lucky, we can be there in ten." 

"Seriously?" R exhales heavily, obviously relieved. 

"I can't promise anything," he says carefully. "But I'll do my best. But since I am hurrying you to a hospital, how'd she get hurt?" 

We all shoot glances at each other, not sure how much we should tell. But, then again, the dude is helping us out and staying pretty calm about the teenage girl bleeding on his seats. It's not like we'll ever see him again, anyways. 

Andi isn't even paying attention to know what's happening. 

"Short version: she collapsed on a pile of glass," I sigh. 

"Did she pass out?" he asks. 

"Not exactly... Just kinda gave up, I guess. She was upset." 

"How much can I keep prodding for details until you ask me to stop?" he laughs politely. 

"She's not paying attention and you're doing us a favor, so as much of the story as you think you want to hear. It can be as long as you want, essentially."

"Whatever you can get out in under the next ten minutes," he chuckles. "By the way, I'm Richard." 

"Well, nice to meet you, Richard. I'm Michael. This is Andi," I say, gesturing to the girl against my side. 

"Nice to meet you, too, Michael." 

"Oh, and this is R, Luke, Calum, and Ashton," I introduce around the car. Everyone gives him an acknowledging wave. 

"Well, nice to meet you all, then." He smiles, then looks at me expectantly. Not in a rude way, and he gives me time to collect my thoughts, he doesn't push. 

"So," I start. "Andi's parents are divorced, and her dad, to be blunt, kinda turned into a deadbeat, but she's always been a total daddy's girl. She takes care of him and is always trying to get him back on his feet, and it's a weird situation. But, he's moving to America in a few days. She didn't know until a week and a half ago when someone else told her about it. Then, we were all helping pack up his apartment, and Andi found a pot stash hidden in his things. For her, that was the last straw. She kinda lost it. She had been giving up all she had in herself to help him and he's been throwing it all away the entire time. She ran out. We found her on the ground with shattered beer bottles surrounding her and a big chuck in her side, completely conscious." 

I look down at the damaged girl in my arms, both inside and out. No point denying that truth. She's damaged and broken, but she's still amazing and has so much to offer the world. She should look peaceful with her eyes closed and resting on my shoulder, but her stuttered breathing and face contorted in pain, destroy the illusion. 

"Well, damn," Chief breathes after a few moments. "How long have her parents been divorced?" 

"Umm... well, she was ten, I think? But things weren't great for a few years before that." 

"How old is she now?" he asks, not trying to intrude, but sounding genuinely concerned. 

"She just turned eighteen." 

"Poor kid," he sighs. "Must be strong." 

"No kidding," I laugh. 

"So are you her boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, just don't tell her that," I chuckle. He gives me an odd look in the mirror. I roll my eyes and explain, "Yes, our relationship would classify me as the boyfriend, but that word scares her, so." 

"Fair enough. From what you've said, I'd be worried if she wasn't a little protected of that heart of hers." 

"Yeah..." I drawl. I swallow a lump in my throat and look back up at him. "How long until we get there?" 

"Hmm..." he thinks. "Give me two more minutes and I'll have you at the emergency room's doors." 

"Emergency room?" Luke questions. "We figured we'd just go to the clinic." 

"That girl needs help, and sitting in a doctor's waiting room doesn't count for anything. We'll be there in a minute," he says with a tone if finality, so we shut up until the faint sounds of sirens can be heard. 

Finally, we are pulling up at the hospital. He doesn't wait for our instructions, he simply drives directly in front of the ER main entrance. 

"We're here," he announces as he puts the car in park to turn and face us. "Now, instead of using all your pennies and quarters to pay for a cab, go and use it to get that girl some real help. And take my card if you need a ride back," he says, handing us a business card with his name and extension number on it. "I wrote my personal number on the back, just in case you kids run into anything, got it?" 

We all stare at him, completely stunned and taken aback by the man essentially a stranger to us. 

"Wow," R finally says for all of us. "Thank you so much." 

"You are welcome," he responds with a firm nod. "Now, get the hell out and get that girl to a doctor!" 

"Yes, sir!" we all say back and shuffle to get Andi out of the car and wave goodbye as he drives away to make room for incoming patients. 

She's still technically conscious, but it takes a minute for us to get her lucid enough to stand on her two feet. 

"We got you, love," I tell her as Ashton helps me walk her to the doors. 

"Mikey, my stomach hurts," she groans. 

"I know, I know," I mumble, not knowing what else to tell her and still being as gentle as possible in moving her forward. 

"But, Mikey..." she tried to say, but is stopped when she bends over to puke on the sidewalk. 

"Shit!" I shout, moving to cradle her in both arms as she throws up again. 

"Uh, guys..." Calum says. "Is that blood?" 

I look to the vomit on the ground, only now noticing the red traces. 

"Fuck," I mutter as she coughs out a bit more. "Ash, can you just carry her in? I don't think I can make it without hurting her." 

"'Course, mate," he says in a rush, immediately moving to pick Andi up bridal style. 

We follow him through the sliding glass doors of the hospital. I instantly smell the crisp and sterile air that always fills these places. Ashton leads us all to the front desk. 

"Hi, we need a doctor," he tells the nurse behind the counter who takes one look at Andi wincing in his arms before he's hurrying to page someone to help. 

"Can we get a wheelchair, or something?" I ask after the man informs us that a doctor is on his way to help us. 

"Oh, of course," he hurriedly says, motioning for another person in scrubs to bring over a wheelchair. Ashton sets Andi down carefully, and I crouch to reach her eye level. 

"Hey, babe, only a few more seconds," I tell her. She nods, lamely, but it's enough for now. 

"Hi, I'm Dr. Bailey." 

I look over my shoulder to see a shorter woman in scrubs and white coat trying to calmly rush to us, but her frantic expression gives her away a bit. I stand up to shake her hand. 

"Hi, I'm Michael Clifford, nice to meet you," I rush. "This is my girlfriend, Andi--or, um--Alandria Parker." 

"What's the problem?" she asks, looking to me if she can get a closer look. I give her a nod and she bends down, asking Andi to angle her arm so she can see better. 

"She has a hole in her body," Calum explains, looking rather pale and eyes blown wide. 

"Yes, that's certainly a problem," Dr. Bailey humors with a smile. "Well, let's get into a room, and I'll see what we can do next, okay?" 

She looks at Andi first, before addressing the rest of us to follow her. I stay by her side as we are lead through a set of swinging doors, right through a bright hallway, and into an examine room on the left. The doctor specifically tells Calum to take a seat first, and if it were any other situation, I would laugh and give him crap for being such a pussy, but not now. Especially since the only thing holding me together, at the moment, is the reassuring demeanor of the doctor. I can't tell if it's a faux reaction to calm us down, but it's probably best, either way. 

"Okay, Andi? Can you open your eyes for me?" Bailey asks, not removing her from the wheelchair yet. 

She nods weakly and pulls her eyelids apart wide. The doctor shines a light in both eyes, and takes her temperature with a little thing in her ear that looks like a futuristic gun thing that they should really consider redesigning, seeing that they are sticking it against their patients' heads. 

"How did this happen, exactly?" she asks, putting away the tiny torture-looking device, hastily trading it in for her special headphones with the disc that listens to your heart. 

"She fell down on glass. A longer piece got jabbed into her side, and we took it out and bandaged it, and it was alright, but--" 

"When was this?" she cuts me off. 

"Um--yesterday," I stutter out. "But, late. Like--last night." 

"How late?" 

"We found her probably about ten, and I don't think it could've happened very long before we got there." 

"Wait, you  _found_  her?" she emphasizes. "You  _found_  her around ten?"

"Yeah..." I mumble. 

"Okay, I need to know the story of how this girl got a hole in her abdomen and is getting medical attention barely under twenty-four hours after her friends  _found_  her," she demands, more fiercely. She finally seems to be done with the easy stuff, hurriedly marking things down on a chart. "Because your friend has already lost a lot of blood, and an untreated wound of twenty-four hours so close to internal organs could severely complicate things."

If Andi weren't slipping farther and farther away from consciousness a foot away from me, she would be laughing at the shit she made especially for us. 

I go through the event, trying to remember all the details that could be medically important, R and Ash helping me fill in the blanks. 

"So she had alcohol in her system?" she checks after we finish. 

"Yes, and the glass was still covered in it," I confirm. 

"That's good, right?" Luke asks from the seat behind me, positioned closely next to Calum. "Like, alcohol kills bacteria and stuff. It would've sterilized the glass and stuff." 

"Yes, it could've helped," she sighs. She moves to stand beside Andi again, this time with a tray of tools within reach. 

"So, then... how bad is it?" I ask, watching her tear Andi's shirt. 

"I'm not sure," she says. "I don't want to take off the bandaging yet, because when I do, it'll begin to bleed too much to see anything. It's been keeping it at bay, allowing it to bleed, but slowly. The instant I remove this, it'll have nothing to stop it, and I don't know how much damage I'll open it up to see, and she's already lost more blood than I would like." 

"So..." I start, trying my best to follow along while my head swims with words and worry. "What are you gonna do?" 

She lets out a heavy breath and turns to fully face the small, teenage audience in front of her. 

"I'm going to get her into an O.R. before I do anything--" 

"Wait, you're taking her into  _surgery_?" Ashton cuts in. "You don't even know what's going on, and you're giving her  _surgery_?!" 

"Okay, take a breath," she calms. "I want to get her into a sterile environment where I'll have everything I need to see what's going on in there and I can be prepared to treat for anything I might find. Now, I know you're scared and are just glad you got her here, am I right?" 

We all nod sheepishly, for whatever reason because since when did this become a conversation where she treats us like lost puppies. 

"Right," she affirms with a small smile. "You should be glad she got here, but even though I'm acting calm and collected, this is actually an urgent matter and Andi needs to get in there as quickly as possible." 

"Yeah, okay," I mumble. 

"Good, now I'm going to send someone else in to take a medical history, so just give as much as you can, okay? But first, is she allergic to any medication that you know of?" 

"Got it. And, no." 

"Good," she sighs. She stands up, pushing Andi out of the room with a hurried goodbye. 

I take a breath, and collapse on the hard, cold, paper covered exam table. 

\-----

"Hi, I'm Dr. Karev," another young looking doctor in scrubs and a coat says as he enters the room exactly fourteen minutes later. "Miss Parker is being prepped for surgery by Dr. Bailey. The operation will probably last around an hour, save for possible complications that may arise. But right now, I need to collect a medical history for Miss Parker," he spouts off, hardly looking around as he walks behind the computer extending from the wall. I shift and sit up on the table. 

"Right, nice to meet you," I start. "I'm Michael Clifford."

"You the boyfriend, I'm assuming?" he asks without looking up. 

"Yeah," I answer reluctantly, knowing Andi would hate me using that word to a complete stranger, but I figure this isn't the time to be worried about that. 

"Good, so is Miss Parker allergic to anything?" 

"No... I don't think so, at least..." 

"Bees," R answers. "She's allergic to bees. Not deathly, but she has a pretty bad reaction to them." 

"You the sister?" he asks, sparing her a glance. 

"Best friend type of sister," she says easily. 

"Is there any blood relative here?"

"No, sir," Luke admits. 

"How old are you guys, anyways?" he asks suspiciously. 

"Seventeen and eighteen," Ash says. 

"Where are the parents?" 

We all share a look, before Calum admits with a cringe, "They don't know any of this happened." 

This seems to be enough for him to finally turn and give us his full attention, looking us all up and down, spending an extra moment on the bags at our feet. 

"Where are you guys from?" 

"We live around Richmond," R answers. 

"You do realize there's a hospital in Richmond, right?" he mocks. "You guys drove all the way to Sydney when there are probably five hospitals between that are much closer. 

"It's a long story," I mumble. 

"I'm sure," he chuckles, turning back to the screen. "Anyways, is she on any medication you know of?" 

"Lamotrigine," R responds, automatically. "Two hundred milligrams every day." 

"She's  _epileptic_?" he asks, seemingly suddenly nervous. 

"No," she sighs. "It's for Depression and Borderline." 

"Oh," he breathes, apparently relieved. "That's good." 

My thoughts pause in my head. "Wait, that's  _good_? What the hell do you mean, 'that's good?' It's very much  _not_  good." 

"Calm down," he groans. "I meant that it's good that she doesn't have epilepsy seeing as she's in surgery with a room full of doctors that would be unaware of that fact." 

I grumble a response, but he just rolls his eyes. 

We spend the next thirty minutes finding her doctors and filling in missing pieces of her charts. By the time we're done, we're all exhausted and ready to hit the wall, even if it is only about ten o'clock. 

"So, should Andi be out soon? It's been almost an hour, right?" R asks as Dr. Karev clips the paperwork back onto his board. 

"I'm not sure, but I'll go check, right now," he sighs. He gives us a small smile and walks out of the room. 

No one says a word, at first, all just relishing in the moment of peace after the last twenty-four hours or chaos. Andi is with the doctors, being taken care of. Everyone is here, safe and together. We can take a breath. 

Little is spoken in the ten minutes before Dr. Karev enters the room, once again, looking more jumpy than when he left. 

"So, is she out of surgery?" R beats me to the question. 

"Well," he begins, huffing a humorless laugh. "Apparently, it wasn't just a flesh wound. The glass went in far enough to pierce her left kidney. It's not a large tear and didn't nick any ribs, but it was enough to cause a bleed. They can repair it, but it'll be a more complicated recovery process than what you were expecting." 

"How long is recovery time?" R demands, already frantic. 

"Depends." He shrugs. "She'll have to be put on bed rest for at least a week or two. We will monitor her to make sure she doesn't progress to a kidney failure, keeping her on medication to prevent infection and swelling. She'll have to be careful for a while about what she does and what she eats, which means no alcohol." 

"Probably a good thing," R sighs under her breath. I nod a little, giving her a tight lipped smile that I hope doesn't look too much like a grimace. The last thing Andi needs, right now, is to be self medicating with alcohol. 

"It'll probably take another hour before she's out of surgery, and then they'll probably have her sleep through the night. So, I'll show you guys to the hospital waiting room."

We all agree and pick up our bags, following him down the same way we came. He stops at an elevators in the Emergency Room lobby. 

"Okay, so you're gonna take this up to the second floor. There's a waiting room with chairs and a few couches. The cafeteria doesn't open for a few hours, but there are tables you can sit at if you want, and there's a cart for coffee in the same area. I'll let Dr. Bailey know where to find you, so I recommend staying put." 

"Okay, thank you," Luke says. Dr. Karev nods and walks back down the hall. 

"So, we're here tonight, and maybe we can get a motel and take turns the rest?" I sigh. "Sounds like we'll be here a few days." 

Everyone agrees, and we take the lift up to a long night of coffee.

 


	35. Chapter 35

_Every day's the same._ _She fights to find her way._ _She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray._ _She wonders why, does anyone ever hear her when she cries?_

_[«When She Cries» Britt Nicole](https://youtu.be/qbHWTkHLtew) _

\-----

_"Hey, Big Stuff," Dad greets, unexpectedly, walking through the front door. I put down my colored pencil and look up to him._

_"Hi, Daddy," I say and walk to give him a hug. He kisses my head and I snuggle against his shirt._

_"Where's your mom?" he asks as he pulls away, much too quickly for my liking, but he seems to be a little jumpy and I don't want to make him upset if I ask. It's okay, though._

_"Um, she's with Hayden and Jax in the backyard. Mommy got a big pool that you pump up with air and you can swim in it!" I tell him excitedly._

_"Oh, that's cool! But, hey, while they're out there, do you wanna go to the diner for a bit of dinner? We'll come right back, afterwards."_

_I smile big, seeing as Daddy has hardly gone with me to the dinner since he moved out last year. I'm there a lot, but he usually just drops me off to do homework and talk to Becca. It's fun, but it's even better when he's with me._

_"Yes!" I squeal. "I'll go tell Mom we're leaving." I turn around to the back of the house, when Dad pulls my shoulder towards him, again._

_"No, don't bother her. We'll be back before she notices, anyway," he insists, hurriedly._

_"Oh," I respond, feeling weird about leaving when Mom doesn't know where I am. But, I am just going to dinner with my dad, and if we're back soon enough, she probably won't realize I ever left. They'll be out in the pool for at least another hour, anyways. "Okay."_

_"Great! Do you have your shoes?" he asks, obviously in a rush of some sort. He probably just wants to make sure we get back in time._

_"Uh, yeah," I say, grabbing them by the front door and putting them on. As soon as I've tied my laces, my dad grabs my hand and helps me up. We walk out to his new van he got for his new job. I like it, but it's annoying when we have Jax with us, because there are only two seats, so I have to sit in the back and use one of the stretchy ropes to keep me from falling. Dad tells me about how crazy one of the guys in his office is. He said he got so drunk the other day, that he peed on the wall._ At work!  _I laugh along at all his funny jokes._

_When we get there we immediately take our usual seats, politely greeting the new waitress they just hired a few weeks ago. The rest of them know us, but she's only seen me here after school a couple of times._

_"What are you gonna get, hun?" Dad asks, ignoring the menus the new lady came by to give us. We both already have everything memorized._

_"I think I want a hamunger," I answer. "But with carrots, not french fries."_

_"Do you want a soda or anything?" he asks._

_"Mom doesn't like us drinking soda," I point out._

_"But Mom isn't here, right?" he whispers conspiratorially._

_It makes me giggle and tell him I'll get a_ Sprite _, then. Dad laughs and tells the waitress our orders when she comes back._

_I tell him all about the art project we did in school, right before break. We learned all about a man named Manet, and Dad seems excited about that part. He says I've seen some of his paintings in the museums we've gone to._

_The lady brings out our food, my eyes lighting up at the sight of my soda. I ignore the sinking feeling in my gut that hasn't gone away since we left, opting to drink my soda in peace._

_"What did you get?" I ask._

_"A salad."_

_"Well, I know that," I laugh, pointing to the bowl of lettuce in front of him. "Like, what kind?"_

_"Blue cheese. You want to try a bite?" he offers, holding up a fork full of greens. I shrug and take the bite in my mouth._

_"Ew!" I screech at the sudden taste on my tongue. I pick up a napkin and spit out the food while Dad laughs so hard there are tears in his eyes._

_"So, is it a new favorite?" he cackles._

_I give him a look and tell him, no, blue cheese will not be added to my list of favorite foods._

_His phone rings on the table, and I look over to see my mom's name flash across the screen. Dad doesn't look phased and tells me to answer it._

_"Hey, mom," I say when the call connects._

"Hi, where are you?"  _she asks, sounding weird and panicky. The feeling in my stomach gets worse but I keep talking to her._

_"Dad came and picked me up for dinner. We're at the diner, now."_

"Why didn't you tell me you guys were leaving?" _Her voice is stern._

_"Dad said he didn't want to bother you and we'd be back before you'd even notice."_

_She sighs on the other side of the phone._ "Please hand the phone to your father." 

_I swallow and tell Dad she wants to talk to him. He rolls his eyes but take the phone from my hand._

_"Hello," he answers. Immediately, I can hear Mom's voice screaming through the speaker. Dad huffs irritatedly, and I frown at my dinner, no longer hungry. But, since I don't want to have to just sit here and have to listen to them argue, I play with the straw in my drink, swirling the ice around the cup in circles. When Dad hangs up the phone, he doesn't say anything at first._

_"What did Mom say?" I ask quietly._

_"She was worried she couldn't find you, so she's gonna come get you. Doesn't like your dad taking you out for a little dinner," he laughs. Mom obviously doesn't like the fact that we didn't tell her, but Dad is always saying she just hates when we spend time with him. But, the way he says it sounds off, and I scrunch against the back of my chair._

_"Oh, okay."_

_I stay silent for a few minutes, picking at my carrots and watching Dad take big bites of his salad._

_"So, what have you been doing since you started break?" he casually asks. It settles a bit of the panic in my stomach, but there's still the weird look in his eye, and the black circles are really small, so that the pretty blue I wish I'd gotten is big and shiny around them. He doesn't seem to notice my discomfort, and continues shoveling lettuce into his mouth._

_"Um, well, Jax and Reina have been over a lot. We just play at the swing and swim. All of the cousins and everyone came over last week and we had a barbecue in the back yard. It was fun."_

_"I'm glad," he says with a smile, but when he looks up, his lips curve up in a different way, and he wipes his hands on his napkin. "Here we go," he chuckles._

_I turn and see my mom stomping through the glass doors at the front of the diner. She waves off the waitress asking her if she would like a table, and rushes towards us. Her face is red and I can see her chest moving up and down really fast. A tingling feeling floods my stomach, but I thought butterflies were a good thing, and this hurts and scares me._

_Dad laughs when she is standing in front of us._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snaps, and my eyes go wide. She never uses any bad words, ever._

_Dad just laughs again, and Mom's jaw drops in disbelief and discuss. I feel sick to my stomach._

_"I was about to call the police."_

_"What? I can't take my daughter out for dinner?" he antagonizes, leaning back in his seat looking like he doesn't have a care in the world, while Mom looks like she is about to scream._

_"Alandria, go wait outside, for me? I'll be out in just a minute," she orders, not taking her eyes off my dad._

_"Mom, what--"_

_"Alandria Parker, I need you to go outside," Mom cuts me off._

_I try to take in a shaky breath, and slip out of the booth without a word. I hurriedly walk out of the restaurant, only looking at the ground beneath my feet. My heart is racing so fast that when I finally make it through the doors, the warm summer air and slight breeze all but take my breath away at the relief of being away from that table._

_I try to sit down against the side of the building, but quickly decide I can't sit still, so I pace back and forth, ignoring how lightheaded I suddenly feel._

_The strong pace of feet against the concrete and swooshing door break me from my trance. I flip around, and Mom is storming out of the diner._

_"Hey, Mom--" I start shakily, but she cuts me off again._

_"Just get in the car, okay?" she says, not actually asking._

_"Really?" Dad chuckles. I turn to find him walking out the same doors, only much more lax. He has a crazy look in his eyes and his hair and shirt are wet. "Do you see what your mother did? She poured soda on me!" he outright laughs, directing the statement at me._

_"Andi, let's go," Mom says, but I stand there, both my parents looking at me and feeling immensely lost and confused. I don't know what to do, but Mom decides for me and grabs me by the arm, physically pulling me towards the car. Mom has never really used physical force to make us do_ anything _, really, but right now, her grip is tight and I flinch away from the pressure of her nails in my skin._

_"Oh, real mature!" Dad shouts after us, still in his hysterical tone. I don't know which of my parents are scaring me more, and I really want to go away from here and from them and sit by myself and feel safe._

_Mom doesn't say anything to him, just opens the car door for me, waiting to slam it behind me before she gets in the driver's seat. Dad is still in the parking lot when she pulls out. He doesn't move when she backs up closer to him, holding his arms out at his sides. He laughs when she honks and her tires screech as we skid onto the road._

_Mom cries on the way home._

_Dad doesn't come around, for a while._

"Did you eat the rest of the jello?" 

"She's not gonna eat it!" 

"But I will!" 

My eyelids feel heavy, but my arms feel like they have weights holding them down from every angle. I struggle to actually lift my chest and suck in a breath. My throat is dry and my legs are stiff from sleeping in this unmoving position. 

"What if she wakes up and wants her jello? How can you deprive her of her first wish after waking up from a  _serious_  and  _scary_ surgery?!" 

"I don't want jello," I mumble, voice scratchy and raw. The room falls silent, until I figure out a way to ply my eyelids apart. Michael and R are sat resting over either sides of my bed, looking uncomfortable and sleep deprived. 

"Hey, how are you feeling?" R asks first. I groan and try to stretch my tense muscles, but my stomach gives a painful stab, and I recoil back. They must have seen me wincing, because everyone's eyes go wide and panicked. 

"Oh, calm down, I'm just sore," I grumble. They take a breath, but remain looking ready to pounce at a moment's notice. "What time is it?" 

"Just past noon. The doctors gave you a little extra stuff so you'd sleep through the night and give your body time to heal," Luke answers. 

I sigh. "So, what'd they say? What's the deal?" 

"Here," Ashton starts, "I'll call the doctor in." He moves to press the button, but I stop him. 

"No," I moan. "Just tell me, yourselves. I don't want to deal with doctors yet." 

"Okay, well, you pierced your kidney," he says. "It missed your ribs, but it caused an internal bleed. It was small enough that it took a while to make it a substantial amount of blood loss and leakage. That's why you didn't do the whole coughing up blood until last night. But they stitched it up in surgery and got it all out." 

"But it'll be a longer and harder recovery process," Michael interjects. "You'll be here at least a week, then you can go home, but you'll be on bed rest for another week or two, and will have to take it easy for a while." 

"A  _week_? When you said we'd be here a week or two, I figured you were being dramatic!" I cry. "Guys, I can't afford to stay in the hospital for a week! I could maybe dip into my savings and afford the surgery and a night! That's all I've got!" 

"Shhh," Mikey calms at my frantic expression. "We'll figure it out, yeah? We can all pitch in or something." He holds my hand in his, and I let myself take a breath at the familiar, warm, green eyes, letting go of the pale blue of my dreams and my nightmares. 

"Yeah, and do you have insurance?" Calum asks, but Luke slaps his chest and he shrinks back looking hurt. 

"Idiot, if she uses her insurance, her mom will see, or something." 

"Hey, I figured it was something worth mentioning," Cal defends. "Seeing as we don't know how else to afford it." 

"Are you sure it's worth keeping it from you parents?" Ash asks. "I mean, it probably won't get back to your mom for a little while, like when she gets the paperwork or bill or whatever in the mail, so it'll be pretty much over and done with by then." 

"And then I'll just have to have almost the same conversation with her I would have if she knew now, only I'd have to go through all these hoops to keep it from her for a few more weeks. No." 

"Okay," he sighs, still unsure, but accepting. 

"Oh, and, Evan and Ember are on their way," Luke mumbles under his breath. It's enough for me to jerk my head up to look at him. 

"What? Why?" I question. 

"Because they're your friends and are worried about you," he answers immediately, as if it was obvious. 

"Okay, ignoring that part, how do they even know?" 

"I texted them..." he says nervously. 

"What?! Why?!" I shriek. 

"Um, I think you said that already," Calum mutters, but I shoot him a glare and he shuts up. 

"Because Evan texted me last night and I figured I'd mention it!" Luke defends. 

"What were you two even texting about?" I scoff. 

"We were just chatting." 

"And you decided to slip in that,  _oh, yeah, Andi's in the hospital with a hole in her abdomen, but whatever. Now, what did they look like?_ " Everyone gives me a weird look and I shrug. "Just guessing." 

"He doesn't need to ask that, though, he sees plenty himself," Calum laughs, getting Ashton to join him. R rolls her eyes and flips them off, while Luke just stands there looking annoyed and slightly embarrassed, if the rose tint to his cheeks is anything to go by. 

"Whatever, missing the point," I say. "So they're on their way?" 

"They'll be here in a half-hour, or so," Luke confirms. 

"If Evan's driving, they'll be here in fifteen," I grumble. 

"Wait, Evan drives?" Michael asks. 

"Yeah..." 

"Then why didn't we ask him to drive us here?!" 

"Because then he would have known!" I shout, scowling at Luke. 

"Whatever, it's happening, so too late." 

"Ugh!" I sigh. "Fine. Now, which one of you dipshits ate my jello?" 

 

\


	36. Chapter 36

**_*TRIGGER WARNING*_ **

**_PLEASE, if you may be triggered by anything, I've written where the triggering section starts and when it ends, so please just skip that part if you think you can't handle it. I'll put a summary at the bottom so you can know what happens, or go check there if you want to see if it is something you can handle. I'm always here, loves. XX_ **

\-----

_I've been laying in bed, probably thinking too much, oh, oh._

_Sorry I'm not sorry for the times I don't reply, you know the reason why._

_Maybe you shouldn't come back. Maybe you shouldn't come back to me. Tired of being so sad. Tired of getting so mad, baby. Stop right now! You'll only let me down, oh, oh. Maybe you shouldn't come back. Maybe you shouldn't come back to me._

_Trying not to forget. Should be easier than this oh, oh. And all the birthdays you've missed, I was only a kid oh, oh.  
_

_[«Shouldn't Come Back» Demi Lovato**](https://youtu.be/GBIkfxhH2TU) _

\-----

"Do you think it's easier?" I ask in the silence of the room. 

Evan and Ember showed up, and after a few hours, they convinced everyone to get out and just go eat dinner at the Macca's down the street. I told them I'd see them tomorrow. Michael and R put up a bit more of a fit about going to the motel for a night, instead of being glued to my side. Ashton stepped in and said he'd take tonight. I didn't appreciate them thinking I had to be babysat, but it made them feel better, so I'd deal with it. 

Now, the sun has set below the horizon out the large window panes, leaving the room peacefully shaded. I'm wrapped up in a cozy blanket Em brought me, as well as a fluffy pillow that I very much appreciate. With the crisp cold of the air conditioning blasting throughout this entire building, it feels oddly easy to take a deep breath, which would be a weird thing to take notice of if I didn't find it a simple task most days of my life. Yet here, sitting miles away from my troubles, hooked up to machines, wrapped in warmth and the smell of iodoform, letting my mind wander isn't my worst nightmare. 

"What?" Ashton asks, looking up from his phone as he sits on the windowsill. 

"Do you think it's easier?" My voice comes out breathy and calm. 

"Do I think what's easier?"

"Just not having a dad at all." 

He looks momentarily stunned, before he pulls himself back together, clearing his throat and walking to sit on the chair by my bedside. 

"As opposed to having one that made you love him and put up with his shit," I continue. 

"I don't know," he muses, his mind deep in thought. 

"Your dad left when you were little, right? Like you never really got to know him?" He nodded slowly, so I went on, "So, do you think it was easier that way? Not having him in your life at all rather than having him but not being who you need him to be." 

"I think they both suck, quite honestly," he huffs and I laugh a little, making the corners of his mouth turn up. "The grass is always greener on the other side, but thinking about how much I hate a man I never knew, I mean—how much would I hate him if he decided to stick around and just cause more problems?" He gulped. "I think it sucks to have a dad that sucks at being a dad." 

I look up at the foam-like tiles of the dropped ceiling, intently tracing their holes with my eyes. 

"How did you deal with it? I mean, you seem to have turned out pretty great. How'd you do it?" 

"Well, thank you, first off," he chuckles. "I appreciate the compliment." 

"Wasn't trying to compliment." 

"Just means you really think it, anyways." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever--you're missing the point," I laugh. 

 

***TRIGGER***

 

"Right," he says. He clears his throat. "Well, anyways--how'd I deal with it? I mean, I was depressed for a good while. Struggled with it a lot. I had to take care of my little brother and sister, too. And, for the record, I get how rough it can be with Hayden in this situation. You don't want them to have to feel any of the burden, so you take it all on your own shoulders. Everything about it sucks." 

I nod, not looking down from the ceiling. 

"But my method of coping? For a long time, it was nothing. I just kinda internalized it. When that became too much..." He sighs. "I found a sharp pair of scissors."

I snapped my head to look at him, eyes wide. 

"What?" 

He slowly nodded, pursing his lips. 

"Yeah. Did it for years. My mom found out and I got some help, but things didn't really get better until I started hanging out with the boys." 

I stared at him for a moment, sucking in a deep, slow breath, wrapping my head around the fact that this impossibly smiley boy ever purposefully took a blade to his own skin. 

"You know when I first met you, I didn't really like you," I say. He huffs a laugh. "You were too happy and perky. It pissed me off, and I thought you were just one of those people who had a perfectly sunny outlook on life." 

"I think you should know better than most how much a smile can hide. Especially with lots of practice." 

"Yeah," I sigh. I don't break eye contact for a few moments as I let my thoughts gather in my head, finally looking down at my hands in my lap. "What made you start? I mean, like--when did you decide to just give in?" 

He stares warily at me, but gives up and sighs. "I don't know, actually. Like there was a specific moment where I made a decision to just give up; stop fighting because I felt like I needed it. 

"I was sitting at school. I don't think it was a very eventful day, from what I remember. Pretty normal. I know the week before, though, I felt the urge all the time. It's weird how it happens in your brain, with something like that. A part has to be off for it to make sense that that pain is something good because it honestly does make sense. When you imagine it, you don't imagine pain, per say; you imagine the release, and that's what actually makes it make sense. There's no other way to go against every human instinct we have to protect ourselves from pain, then inflict it on ourselves, ya know? 

"But, yeah. I was sitting in school. It was only like a half hour before the bell. We finished what we were doing in that class, so we were just hanging around. I had kind of had an itching for the last few hours, but suddenly--well, I guess it was more gradual, but I was just shaky and couldn't breathe. I didn't know what was happening, but I tried to imagine if it felt like, ya know... would make it better. So, I thought I would. I decided I was just going to get home as fast as I could, and just--give up. Give up trying to fight it and finally give me the release. Figured I'd do it once and be done.

"So I walked home, and no one would be back for at least a few hours, so I knew I had time. I always hated the idea of doing it while my family was home. It happened, obviously, but I tried to avoid it, ya know? But I went and couldn't find anything other than a big pair of scissors, and it was better than nothing." 

"Did it work?" I ask in a small voice. 

His eyes are a little red, but I know he would tell me if he needed to be done talking about it. He may even last longer than I can. I tightly clench my jittery hands when he opens his mouth. 

"Yeah, it did." He swallows an obvious lump in his throat. "It's kind of this euphoric feeling, and the first time you do it is always the best because it's so new and such a relief. The best way to explain it would be like popping a balloon, like there is so much physical pressure suddenly released from your skin." 

I choke down a lump in my own throat, forcing myself to look him in the eye. 

"I've just--I mean... I've thought about it, ya know?" 

"I know you have," he says calmly. "It's awful, but I think everyone that goes through stuff like us thinks about it at least once or twice." 

I nod, feeling very small. It's not a feeling I particularly enjoy, either. 

"But the thing is--" he continues. "The thing is that once you start, everything changes." 

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

"I mean it becomes something you always think about. It's a feeling you become addicted to. You find your heart skipping a beat when you see a pair of scissors, or a razor, or a pencil sharpener. I've been clean for over a year, and there's still a part of me that, whenever I see a blade, I want to grab it while no one is looking and hide it away, just in case. That desire never goes away. 

"Neither do the scars. Suddenly you have to wear long sleeves in forty-degree weather, and you spend the time miserable just desperately wanting to take it off or roll them up, but you can't, and you can't think about anything else. Bracelets work, too, but it's easier for them to slip around and make 'em visible.

"Then, when people find out, you get labeled as 'The Cutter Kid'. They avoid certain topics or tense up when something related gets said, or whatever. It's easier to hide when people don't know to look for it. I mean, before anyone knows, it's not so hard to keep it hidden when you go swimming, or something. You keep your arms by your side and then hold it underwater. But when people know, they look for it. I hated going to the beach or in the pool for a long time. There's this sinking feeling when someone sees them, and it's hard to breathe. 

"I know that I will have these pink and white lines forever, and one day my kids will have to see them, also making it twice as likely for them to do the same at some point in their life. 

"Once you start, there is no end. You can stop, but it's a forever kind of thing." 

"You know, you don't have to tell me all of this," I sigh. 

"Yes, I do." 

I scrunch my face in confusion. "Why?" 

"Michael wanted me to," he says, a small smile that almost looks smug. 

"Why?" I reiterate. 

"He's been through enough with me to know how possible it could be for you to decide to do that. He's been there when I quit, too, so he knows how hard it can be, and how much it changes you," he softly answers. 

I shut my eyes tight, flinching out of surprise when I feel a tear fall down my cheek. 

"It's not like I was ever gonna actually do it," I sigh. 

"How many times have you written your suicide note?" 

"What?!" I jump, taken off guard by the surprising and blunt question. Ash seems unfazed. 

"How many times have you sat and thought about what your suicide note would say?" 

"Hold up, I'm not  _suicidal_!" 

"I know. How many times?" 

We just sit and stare at each other for a few moments, before I give in with a sigh. 

"I don't exactly keep track." 

"I figured." 

"Still doesn't mean I'm suicidal." 

"I know. It's just another one of those awful things I think all of us do." He smiles sadly at me. "What do you make it say?" 

I chew on my lip. I move over a little on the bed, making room on one side. Ashton gets the hint, although looking somewhat surprised, and carefully climbs in next to me. Only because it's cold and his feet are bare, I lift the blanket over him, too. He smiles appreciatively. He doesn't wrap his arm around me or hold me close to his chest, we just lay side by side, close due to the size of the bed and the size of his arms. 

He waits a minute of both of us staring at the tiles before breaking the silence.

"So. What'd it say?" he asks, his voice soft. 

I take a deep breath. "Mainly just saying sorry, I guess. Saying goodbye, too. Telling them I love them. Tell them not to let me ruin their lives. Stuff like that..." 

"Who is 'them'?" 

I shift as I get more comfortable under the covers. My neck starts to hurt, so I lightly rest my head on Ashton's shoulder.

"Hayden. R. My mom and dad. Ember and Evan," I sigh. "I guess I should add you guys to the list now, too." 

"Awww," he swoons, I roll my eyes. 

"Kind of a morbid topic to be 'awww-ing' about," I chuckle. 

"'S still cute," he says. "And it's not like I ever have to actually worry about it, anyways." 

There's an open question in there for me because even after insisting, he's still unsure, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Loved, maybe? 

"Nope. Never." 

 

***TRIGGER OVER***

 

More silence. 

That tile has one hundred and eighty-two dots. 

"I figured out how to pay my medical bill, by the way." 

"What?" he asks. He turns his head to face me with a look of confusion. I tilt my head to meet his gaze. 

"I figured out how to pay," I repeat. 

"How?" 

"My college fund." 

"Wait--" He stops. "Your college fund? You can't use your money for college." 

That tile has one hundred and seventy-eight. 

"I figured it out when Michael was napping yesterday. I went onto my account online and figured out how to do it. Don't tell him that, though," I chuckle.

"But that's money for  _school_! I know you want to be able to study art. That's something important." 

His voice sounds so thoroughly distressed. 

"I heard Michael and Luke talking to one of the nurses. R was laying with me listening to music, and I heard them say that, as of now, we owe fifteen grand. But I'll still be in here for a while, and it'll be more..." 

"But--still! How are you going to go to college?!" 

One hundred ninety-seven holes. 

I sigh. "The account has almost fifty thousand dollars--enough to cover hopefully the majority of my first two years, seeing as I can't go anywhere more expensive than that, because it gives me two years to work and earn enough to finish. Of course financial aid and loans, but I can't be the girl stuck paying off her schooling for the next fifteen years. If I dip into it, now, I'll maybe be able to pay for a year and a half at a junior college. It's not like I would've gone anywhere, anyways."

Ashton sits up, knocking me off his shoulder and jolting the bed. 

"Of course you're going somewhere!" he shouts. I flinch. "Things like this are why Michael wanted me to talk to you! You seem all good and better, or whatever, and then you say things like that and sound all hopeless! Michael told me about the whole  _not waking up_  thing! And for the record--just because you say you don't want to die doesn't mean you want to live!" 

"There's a difference between  _living_  and  _surviving_!" I yell back, sitting up. "I'm surviving, but I'm not living! It's hard to want to keep going, day after day, if all you are doing is  _surviving_ —if all you can do is  _survive_!"

"Then you keep going until you find  _something_  that makes you  _feel_  alive! You have your art. You have your music. You love reading and writing. You love history. You love R. You love Michael—"

"Don't!" I shriek. I hold his steady gaze, my own growing hard. "Don't even try to go there! That is none of your business!"

"Oh, come on," he groans, mainly to himself. "Okay, fine—I get it. You've been hurt and have issues that, yeah, will take years, maybe your lifetime, to figure out. But, that doesn't mean that you have to be completely cut off, to everything and everyone, through the entire process, because that doesn't help anything."

I card my finger through my hair, tugging on the roots. I take a deep breath, looking him in his sad eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I've been told." I let out a heavy sigh.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold my hand up for him to wait. He silently nods and grasps my hand, motioning for me to continue.

"However," I sigh. "The man that taught me how to love just broke my heart. All reasoning of love and happiness just went out the window."

\-----

**I've written this like five times and it has gone in a million different directions over that course of time XD this is what it has ended up with lol**

** Summary: **

**_so, basically, Ashton tells her how he coped through self-harm, and how he dealt with the depression and dealing with his little brother and sister. she admits she has thought about it, and he says that he knows and that it is something most people in their situation would think about. he asks how many times she has written her suicide not, and she flips and insists she's not suicidal. he says he knows, but it's another thing that tends to happen. he asks her what it would say. she says that it would be saying sorry to everyone (Hayden, R, Em, and Evan, parents) and says she guesses she should add the guys to the list, and Ashton is an idiot and says "awww" and that's basically where it starts up again XD_ **


	37. Chapter 37

_Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place? Like somehow you just don't belong, and no one understands you?_

_Do you ever want to run away? Do you lock yourself in your room? With the radio on turned up so loud that no one hears you screaming?_

_No you don't know what its like when nothing feels alright. You don't know what its like to be like me. To be hurt, to feel lost! To be left out in the dark! To be kicked when you're down! To feel like you've been pushed around! To be on the edge of breaking down, and no one there to save you! No you don't know what it's like! Welcome to my life._

_[«Welcome to My Life» Simple Plan ](https://youtu.be/hBQvjtXR4qA) _

\-----

"Should we wake them up?" 

"They're so cute, though." 

"He better keep his hands to himself." 

"Oh, calm down. They're just cuddling." 

I take a deep breath as the fog dissipates from my sleepy brain. Ember's voice continues to argue with Michael and R if they should wake us up. I hope they know what's good for them and stay the fuck away. This is the warmest and most comfortable I've been in weeks, and I don't even care that it's Ashton's chest under my head. His tee shirt is thin and his heat easily seeps through the fabric, keeping me warm in the sterile air. 

"If you keep arguing, it won't matter what you decide, because she'll already be awake." Ashton's chest rumbles with his words and sends vibrations through my head. It feels oddly soothing and I leave my eyes shut. 

"What are you doing?" Michael asks, voice suddenly hushed in a whisper as if he hadn't been all but shouting a moment before. 

"What do you mean?" Ash says with a voice rough from sleep. 

"Why are you all cuddled up with Andi?" Mike clarifies--not harshly, but certainly stern. 

Ash takes a deep breath, and I move with the inhale and exhale of his chest. 

"I finished talking to her last night and we fell asleep." 

There's a moment of silence before Michael begins talking in a tone of obvious reluctance. 

"Um, yeah... how'd that go?" he questions sheepishly. 

"Fine," Ash says. "I told her the story, and answered some of her questions." 

"What'd she want to know?" His voice now slightly panicked. 

"Well, she actually started the conversation. Not directly, but she did ask me if I thought it was easier not having a dad at all." 

"What did you say?" 

"That they both suck. But that it'd probably be infuriatingly painful having to love the man reason would lead you to hate. At least I don't have to love him." 

They all sit in silence for a few minutes. I focus on the rise and fall of Ash's chest, reveling in the soothing beat, like how a mother holds her child close to calm their heartbeat. 

"This is gonna be hell, isn't it?" Michael finally asks, sounding tired and defeated. 

I feel Ashton's muscles move as he nods up and down. 

"Yes, so you'd better be ready to dance with the devil for this girl." 

\-----

"Open it," Michael says excitedly. I give him an odd look, then turn it down to the shimmery bag overflowing with red and green tissue paper. 

"Christmas isn't until next week, you do realize?" 

"That's why this is a  _Pre_ -Christmas present." 

"Just open it," Evan says. 

I roll my eyes but pluck the first green paper from the arrangement. I continue until my bed is covered and the only thing left in the bag is a book. I lift it out, curiously examining it. The cover was a light green with white dots, a lady bug beveled outwards in the center. 

"What?" I ask confusedly. I glance up to the crowded room. 

"Open it," Ember urges. 

I tentatively fold back the googly-eyed creature, revealing a title page. 

_This journal belongs to Andi Parker_

My name written on the line in familiar writing is easily identifiable as R's. 

I flip to the next page, finding seven names scripted across the paper. The rest of the pages are blank, void of markings or lines. 

"So..." I drawl, once again looking up from the booklet. "Does this come with an explanation?" 

"It's a sketchbook," Em announced happily. 

"What's with the lady bug?" 

"It's from the gift shop," Mikey laughs. "It was either that or a pink and purple butterfly, so." 

"Good choice," I affirm. "Any particular reason, though?" 

"You haven't really drawn anything in weeks, and don't have anything to do while you're in here," R softly explains. 

I clench my jaw through a nod. I figured they'd pick up on my lack of creativity recently. The thing was, though, that it wasn't on accident. My art is my emotion. Despite what R says, sometimes it's easier to not feel for a while. I know I can't forever, but I've had enough  _feeling_  to last me at least a few more weeks, thank you. I'm not yet ready to tap back into those emotions. 

Still, I give them a faux smile and thank them. 

I tell them I'll keep it right under my pillow for safe keeping, and leave it at that. 

\-----

_Dear Diary or whatever the fuck you say to start this thing--_

_so i googled how to write a journal because the few times my therapists had me try it when i was younger, i could never really figure out what i was supposed to be talking about. i was always told that i should just start talking about my day, and the rest would come. i usually ended up filling a page or two of the notebooks they'd give me before it got lost in my childhood clutter._

_google didn't actually help since they basically told me the same shit. but, it's about four in the morning and i can't sleep. the drs took me off my sleep medication a few days ago, so now i have nothing forcing me to turn my brain off. i'm laying in bed watching R and Em curled together on the cushion by the window. we talked for a while and it was actually really nice just chatting with my girl friends._

_but now they're asleep and i'm alone. therefor-you found your way out from under my pillow, taunting me with your intentions. however, i AM NOT DRAWING. i'm writing, but there will be no artwork on these pages. i don't think there will be for a pretty long time._

_but i guess i'll start with telling you about my day..._

_i told everyone about my plans for payment. it's safe to say that no one was happy, least of all were R and Michael. that wasn't surprising. every single on of them bargaining to pitch in all they had was, though. i took a nap and woke up with crumpled bills scattered across my lap (even a check Cal wrote for three hundred bucks) (it was his mom's checkbook)._

_they begged me to take it and that'd we'd work the rest out. however, even with my savings and their contributions, we're still short almost twelve grand (the updated grand total now eighteen thousand)_

_i told them to shove it, got an hour lecture involving all of them scolding me for being so stupid, but then it was over and no one brought it up again._

_dr bailey told me that i can be discharged tomorrow (thirty-three hours and counting). she also said that everything would end up costing around twenty-five grand after it's all said and done, seeing as i still have to pay for my outpatient medication on top of the final hospital charges._

_we'll be getting home just in time for christmas eve. jax's sister Reina is in town for the holidays, so i'll probably get to see her at some point._

_evan is going to give us a ride home. it'll be a cramped road trip with the eight of us, but i get to sit in the passenger's seat so i'm not really worried._

_dad's in america-i'll leave it at that._

_i don't really know what else there is to say..._

_oh! i've decided i'll be getting a job when i get home. i probably won't start till after the holidays and my stomach has healed a bit more so i won't cringe in front of customers. i'll probably get some food type job. i don't really want to be working retail or anything-too much interaction required. I'm not much interested in showing conceited barbies around racks of overpriced cloth for hours a day. even if i did, i'd be fired before my first paycheck seeing as i'd probably cuss someone out by day two. I'm sure there are some stores that aren't like that. basically meaning: all the stores i will shop at._

_i feel so up and down. i'm fine then i'm not then i'm hurting then i'm numb. i don't really know what to do with it._

_i'll figure it out later._

_good night._

 


	38. Chapter 38

_If hell is a life without love, am I being punished for what I've done? The sky's on fire. All the stars disappear, no signs of life without you here. Tears will fall, oceans will rise, the earth will stop turning. Since you left every breath feels like it's burning. I know that life will go on. I'll survive, but for tonight, I'd swear on my life this is the end of the world._

_[«End of the World» Juliet Simms](https://youtu.be/doRf_tdI48A) _

\----- 

_Michael's POV_

"Andi, give me the bottle." 

She shakes her head indignantly in taunting, lifting the drink back to her lips, walking backwards away from me with a manic look in her eye. I huff and roll my eyes, keeping my arms outstretched to her. 

"Babe, you need to put it down." 

"It's been six weeks," she huffs with a drunken smile. "Doctor said I can have alcohol after six weeks." Her lips curve smugly and eyes wide, she tilts her head back, guzzling the clear liquid. 

I groan, reaching to forcibly remove her lips from the bottle. 

_Six weeks._

I don't know if we were even  _together_  for six weeks before all this happened. 

What's supposed to be our 'honeymoon phase' where we can't keep our hands off each other or force the smiles off our lips; where everyone groans because we're that adorably sick couple that cuddle and sit on each other's laps and kiss goodbye--we've spent that time dealing with broken families and broken bodies and my broken girl. 

Very few smiles between the tears. 

The thing is--the tears weren't  _hers_. In fact, this moderately-drunk-Andi is the most expressive I've seen in six weeks. She hasn't shed a single tear. It's the rest of us that sit up every night and cry after she's drifted to sleep. 

She hasn't gone home more than three times since we got back. She didn't leave the warehouse for the first week and a half until school started again and she didn't have much of a choice. Christmas and New Years were grim celebrations, a dead tree once ornately decorated in the corner. We'd tried to get her excited about  _something_ , but she spent the time staring blankly. 

At the hospital, we thought, or figured, it would get better—that it would be better over a month later. We didn't expect it to be perfect, but it wasn't supposed to be this awful. 

I feel like her babysitter more than her boyfriend, and I'll be fine with that for however long it takes... 

But it's beginning to feel hopeless. 

We wake her up every morning, make sure she showers and changes into clean clothes that we take turns bringing home to wash every week, then we get to school, at least one of us walking her to her classes, make her eat something at lunch, go with her to work at the diner, sit at the counter and do homework while she mindlessly waits tables, get home and lay with her until she falls asleep. 

Only then do we sit in a circle on the floor and take turns sobbing—usually depending on who had her most that day. 

We've given up on trying to make her do homework, realizing it was useless and we had too much else to deal with. 

We take turns filling out her worksheets, writing out math problems, helping each other for essays. Tests she's on her own. She's passing most classes. 

She yells at us to stop babying her every once in a while. We ignore her and it goes on. 

But now, it's been six weeks and her body can handle some alcohol. 

I don't think excessive amounts hard liquor is what the doctor had in mind when he informed her of this after she had asked. 

"Please put it down, Andi," I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut tight. 

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Luke squeaks from behind me, looking a combination of distraught, exhausted, and worried. There're hardly any other emotions that can survive in this home, nowadays. 

"I can do whatever the fuck I want!" she laughs hysterically. I hear R choke out a muffled sob into Luke's shirt, and I really want to be somewhere else, right now. 

I surge forward and forcibly grab the bottle from her grasp, a cry of protest immeidiately ignored. With a stony expression, I lift the bottle to my own lips, chugging a few gulps while keeping eye contact with the startled girl of mine. 

After I force myself to swallow my third mouthful, I pull it away. I wordlessly hurl the bottle against the painted wall, liquor and glass shards splaying like a firework, pieces shimmering in the dull light. If the circumstances were different, it would be beautiful. 

Instead, I lock eyes with Andi, unwavering and past my breaking point. 

"Feel familiar?" I ask, voice cold. "Glass flying through your beer goggles?" 

"Mike," Luke cautions. I wave him off easily without looking away. 

"Just, go to bed, Andi," I growl, shaking my head, feeling the weight of everything currently on my shoulders in a single moment, just wanting to close my eyes for a few days. 

Instead, I squeeze my eyes closed tight, reveling in even the brief moment of detachment from this world. 

I hear the springs dip in the mattress, but don't move to look if Andi has actually gotten into bed, probably too shocked to do anything but obey, I suppose. 

I turn away, only opening my eyes when they are safely in view of the open window. I easily slip through, not looking back before climbing the smaller iron ladder to the roof, my feet landing with a thud on the flat, rough surface. I collapse onto the ground, going full on starfish looking up at the stars, savoring the silence before one of them is sent to follow me. 

I guess Luke was the lucky one with his name drawn from the proverbial hat. He approaches silently, save for his softened footsteps.

He taps my head, signally for me to lift my head. He lies down and I rest my head on my stomach, already feeling comforted. 

He allows us to sit in silence for a few moments, getting lost in our thoughts and stars.

"You knew it was going to be hard." His voice is soft when he finally speaks.

I take a deep breath, my head rising and falling with Luke's chest as he does the same.

"I can handle hard," I sigh. "I don't know if I'll be able to handle impossible."

Luke threads his fingers through my hair, playing with a small lock.

"It's not impossible. At least, I don't think it is. Not yet."

"It's starting to feel like it."

"I know," he mumbles. I can tell his mind is in a million different places, just like mine.

"You and R look like you have it so  _easy_. I mean, not with this whole thing, obviously, but your relationship."

He exhales, and I feel his breath fan across my face lightly.

"Nothing is as perfect as it seems from the outside."

"No kidding." I scoff a laugh. "Does that mean you guys are having problems then, or...?"

"No, no," he corrects vehemently. "We're actually really great. I'm just saying there are moments that make things hard."

"R's a great girl."

"Yeah," he says after a moment of thoughtful silence. "She's ridiculously awesome."

"Let's talk about something happy," I sigh. "Tell me about her. Like, you two."

"Like what?" he laughs, and I find myself smiling.

"I don't know. What do you guys do? What is she like when you're together? Let's do some Girl Talk," I chuckle, Luke joining softly. 

"All right," he sighs happily. "Well, I mean, she's gorgeous. Not sure if that has anything to do with what you're looking for, but I feel it's worth mentioning," he laughs. "She's really funny--and quirky. We laugh a lot. I love when we just hang out, and she just rests her head on my shoulder or lays across my lap. She'll have her headphones in and just be dancing and mouthing the song in her seat, forgetting I'm even there, and it's the most endearing thing to watch. When she's painting, she doesn't blink for hours, I swear, and I can't believe her eyes haven't dried up, yet." I laugh. "She does this thing when she's drinking from a straw, where she kinda sticks her tongue out and like lifts her head above it before she drinks. She drinks ten gallons of orange juice a day. She definitely isn't afraid of PDA. Between classes, we'll make out against the lockers, and she thought it was the funniest thing when Mrs. Rylen walked by one time and gasped at us. She sped walked over to us to physically pull us away from each other. She just started cracking up right in front of her. I love holding her hand if we're walking through the halls, or sitting on the couch. It's all just nice. I don't know how to explain it." 

I twist my neck to look at his face. His smile is so big and so content as he keeps his eyes on the stars. 

I huff a small laugh.

"Wow. I didn't know R would be so... tender." 

"Oh, god," Luke groans. "Tender? What the fuck?!" he laughs, dragging his hands over his face. 

I laugh with him. "I'm just saying! Next, you're gonna tell me how you  _made love_  for the first time, all gentle and full of feeling." I can't help but be in hysterics at this point. 

"Oh, my  _god_!" He laughs more. "What is happening?!" 

"That phrase just, it's so awkward! Andi once mentioned if I said that, she'd cut off my balls," I laugh, leaving off the part where it's her, so it was oh-so-casual and didn't leave me breathless for a multitude of reasons--some more pleasant than others. 

Luke slows his laughter. "Wait, you two haven't slept together yet?!" 

"When would we have slept together?!" I laugh incredulously, but not  _completely_  bitter. "At the very beginning of our relationship when she wouldn't get within a foot of me, or after she near killed herself on a bottle of booze?" 

"I don't know, I guess I just assumed," Luke chuckles, albeit lighter--more breath and more emotion. "You were snogging before you were really anything, so." 

"We had more fun before we anything, really," I sigh, feeling the weight lifted by the laughter shared with my brother settle a little lighter this time. 

"I'm sorry your girlfriend isn't here." 

"She's just downstairs, you twit--" 

"Not literally here, moron," he chuckles. "I mean... I'm sorry she's not with any of us, at the moment. I'm sorry she's stuck in her own little world. I'm sorry you can't be a part of it, right now." He lets out a heavy sigh, threading my hair lazily through his fingers. "I'm just sorry." 

I take a deep breath, turning on my side and curling up, my cheek pressed against Luke's chest, now staring up at him.

"I'm sorry your girlfriend is hurting, too," I say softly. "I'm sorry we all are." 

"She'll come back," he says, trying to convince at least one of us. "She'll come back, and it'll be soon enough. This won't last forever." 

 


	39. Chapter 39

_I've been good. I've been doing what I should. Working hard to make a world that we can live in. I've been strong. I've been holding out so long, and I don't want you to forget you are forgivin'._

_I know you're standing there waiting for me to take it all back down the other road, baby! But I won't let you down! I know you're standing there waiting for me to take it all back down the other road, baby! But I won't let you down! Every time you turn around. Yeah!_

_All the reasons you believe what you believe! Never seen another truth that's a part of me! Now what I wanna do is show you what it really means to love! What it really means to love!_

_[«Every Time You Turn Around» Daughtry](https://youtu.be/lP7gP5r8TPI) _

\-----

_Michael's POV_

"Where the fuck is she?!"

"Calm down! We'll find her okay?"

"She's out of her mind, where are we going to find her?!"

I tug on my roots, willing myself not to hyperventilate, knowing that will solve shit. My eyes burn and my chest is on fire.

"It's all going to be okay," Luke tries to comfort. "She's around here somewhere, and once she sobers up, she'll come back around."

"I'm not waiting around for her dry up! Plus, she could easily just get more! Stay drunk for the rest of her life! The only reason she spends any time lucid is because we're there to shove water down her throat and throw out the bottle!" I scream, moving past hysterical. "Does anyone even know what time she left?!"

"I've been awake since seven," Ashton says. "I didn't know she wasn't in bed, though."

"So she's at least been gone for three hours," R thinks aloud, not looking at anyone, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "That's not too bad."

"It's still not great," Calum mutters under his breath and Luke slaps his head for me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down on my tongue inside my mouth until I feel my teeth break the skin and taste the blood. Everything hurts and my head is spinning so fast I can't tell up from down. I'm falling apart just when I need to be the one put together. I give in and let my knees give way, sinking onto the floor with my head strung between my hands.

"I don't know how we can do this anymore," I mumble. "I mean-are we actually doing anything? Even when she couldn't drink, she was never getting better, regardless of us."

R walks over and slinks down into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, resting the side of her head against mine. I drape my arm around her waist, trying to sooth her sniffling.

We're all just so tired.

"I don't even thinks she realizes what she's doing; she's blocking it all out. But, I think it's worse than what she was doing before," I explain.

If my voice is any indicator to how broken I look, I don't think I can handle looking in the mirror for a while.

"She's doing what her dad was doing. He was an alcoholic first, then pot, but it's the same thing: numbing. Numbing to the point nothing has to be real. She hates what her dad is doing but she's doing the same thing." I swallow the lump in my throat. "What her dad is doing is tearing her apart, but what she's doing is breaking all of us."

R lets out a strangled sob, clutching onto me tighter.

"Let's just deal with one thing at a time, okay?" Ashton says after a moment of strained silence. He gives us a forced smile, trying to make us feel better, maybe lighten the mood.

It's not working.

\-----

_Andi's POV_

"Right there," I laugh, pointing halfway up my upper arm. The man gives me a look but still manages to look slightly amused.

"You know you're pretty tipsy to be deciding to do this," he says, glancing up at me from where he continues sterilizing the needle. He looks relatively young, probably late twenties, but still not much older than me.

I shrug. "Won't regret it."

"All right," he chuckles. "I like the quote, though. Frost, right?" 

I smile. "I'm impressed." 

"Why wouldn't I know him?" he chuckles. "Keep your arm in place on the arm rest, yeah?"

"Yep," I say, giggling at the end. The man smiles, dipping the needle in the ink and situating it hovering above my skin. "What's your name again?"

"Rayden." His voice is slightly distracted as the machine whirls to life.

"That's a cool name. I like it."

"Thanks," he laughs lightly. "Andi, right?"

"Yep," I chuckle. He makes the first contact with my skin and the initial sting makes me wince, but soon the alcohol causes the pain to subside.

"Is that short for something?"

I nod. "Alandria."

"I'd give you a high-five for unique names, but my hands are kind of busy," he jokes.

"Fair enough," I giggle.

I sit back in the chair, lazily shutting my eyes. The buzz of the machine and the constant pierces of pain is oddly soothing. It feels like coming down from an adrenaline rush; like a release.

I let my mind go blank, save for a few spots of thought here and there about the picture of a squirrel tattoo on the display board across from me, making me giggle each time. I wouldn't be against a squirrel tattoo.

"Mind if I ask why you're here drunk off your ass at eleven at night getting your first tattoo all by yourself?"

I look down at Rayden's voice. He looks to be about halfway finished.

I shrug. "I don't know, really. Didn't want to go to work today, so I just kinda walked around town. Hung out at a bar down the street for a bit. Saw this place when I left. Figured why not?"

"Where do you work?"

"This little diner across town," I answer easily.

"Oh, gosh," he chuckles. "My mom loves that place. She's always over there. Has been going since I was a kid."

"Who's your mom?" I ask curiously. "I've spent half of my life there, maybe I know her."

He dips the needle back in the pocket of paint beside him, bringing it back to my arm.

"Um, red head. Older, obviously. Her name's Becca."

My jaw drops.

"Becca?" I ask slowly.

"Yeah," he affirms, "you know 'er?

"Fuck yeah, I know her," I laugh incredulously. "She's like my second mom."

This makes him look up from my nearly finished tattoo.

"You're kidding?" he chuckles, just as disbelieving.

"Yeah, I used to spend every day with her hanging out at that damn diner," I laugh freely. "I never knew she had a son, though."

"Well, I lived with my dad, so I only saw her every once in a while," he explains.

"She's divorced?"

"Yeah, about twenty years, now."

"And you lived with your dad?"

"Yeah, I know most kids go with their mom, but I was ridiculously close to my dad, and he had a harder time dealing with the divorce, so I went with him to watch out for him, I guess." He shrugs.

"How old were you?" I ask in awe.

"I had just turned nine when they split," he says and my eyes widen.

"That's a big decision for a nine-year-old," I chuckle near humorlessly.

He shrugs again. "It was a simple choice, back then. I know that sounds horrible, but I knew my mom would be fine no matter what, but I always had doubts about my dad with that stuff."

I nod silently, opting to avert my gaze back to the squirrel, finding it slightly less amusing now that I was feeling a tad more sober. I could still feel the world rocking gently beneath me, but my head was clearer. Rayden goes back to his work, the pleasant sting returning with the whirl of the machine.

"My dad moved out when I was little," I say. "That's why I was always at the diner with your mom. My dad would take me there a lot when he picked me up from school, drop me off to do homework and stuff."

"He dropped you off on the days he got to hang out with you?" he asks. It's not in a rude way, he just seems genuinely inquisitive.

Plus, I'm still not sober enough to know when to shut my mouth.

"Yep. Didn't know why at the time. Now, I'm pretty sure he spent the time getting high."

He looks up but keeps his head angled down.

"What drug?"

"Pot."

"Who's his dealer?"

"How should I know?" I laugh. "Why?"

He shrugs. "My cousin's a dealer so I know a few people."

That's enough to make me eye him carefully, knowing we're going into a newly sensitive territory.

"Do you do it?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I tried it a few times when I was in school. It was okay and was a way to let loose, but I don't like the idea of drugs being the only way to relax or have fun. It was always more Max's thing." He glances between my eyes. "You?"

"Never tried it." I shrug. "Know some guys that hang out in the same warehouse me and my friends stay in. They're always giving us some, but we usually flush it down the toilet or something. Or, I'd give it to a friend who will sell it for some extra cash. Doesn't use it, either. But it's good to make a quick buck." I look down at my hands wringing in my lap. "Probably won't be doing that anymore."

"Where's the warehouse?" he asks, going back to needle the final letters.

"Off Ranger and Lipton," I answer easily. He, however, looks somewhat startled. I give him an odd look.

"What?"

"That's where my cousin stays."

My eyebrows raise up my forehead.

"You're kidding," I laugh.

"No," he chuckles with me.

"Wait, what did you say his name was?" I lean forward in my seat until he reprimands me and makes me sit back again.

"Max."

My smile brightens. "Holy shit, I know him."

"Really?" His smile mirrors mine.

"Seriously! We're on the floor above him!"

"That's insane." He shakes his head, looking down once again. "Freaky coincidence."

"Tell me about it."

My smile softens and my head falls to rest against the back again. I close my eyes and enjoy the last few minutes of peace and pain.

After a bit, I hear the machine whirl to a stop. Rayden pats down my arm with a wet clothe of some sort. I wait to open my eyes until after he has finished covering the area in plastic wrap.

"All done?"

"Yep," he says, rolling his chair away and beginning to clean up his area. "I know I already explained aftercare a little, but I'll remind you just in case your swimming brain forgot it," he jokes.

I think about snapping back at him, keeping up the banter, but then I realize he's right and decide to keep quiet.

"So, leave the bandages on for one to three hours. Clean it and keep it moisturized with water based lotion and antibacterial cream. Usually you'd be responsible for getting that on your own, but I suppose I'll give you the family-and-friends discount and give you some supplies from the back." He shoots me a smirk over his shoulder from where he is finished cleaning the needles, now tapping something on his phone. I roll my eyes fondly.

"Don't trust I'll do it on my own?"

"Not taking that chance," he laughs.

"Yeah, all right," I whine mockingly.

"Do you want to call anyone to take you home?" he asks casually, but I feel the smile slip off my face.

"Don't really want to go home."

This makes him turn around to look at me fully, resting against the counter.

"Do you go to the warehouse then?"

"That counts as home, too," I mumble. He walks back to sit in his seat beside me.

"Why don't you want to go home?"

I sigh in frustration. "Just my friends. They've been so overprotective since I went to the hospital, hovering and taking care of me. I mean, I get that I've gone a tad off the rails recently, and I appreciate them basically passing school for me, but it gets frustrating."

"Wait," he says, lifting his hand between us, "when were you in the hospital? For what?"

I roll my eyes. "Like, two months ago. I pierced my kidney. Had to get surgery and blah, blah, blah."

"You didn't mention this when you signed the release form," he sighs. "If your immune system has recently been compromised, it could heighten the risk of infection and make it more difficult for the tattoo to heal."

I shrug. "I knew that. I still wanted the tattoo."

He lets out a heavy breath, drooping his head in exasperation. His phone buzzes on the counter and he reaches to grab it, quickly typing out a response and locking it, returning to face me.

"Well, given this new development, I'm insisting you go home. Stay indoors, out of the sun. Let them keep an eye out for you, okay? I don't care if you don't want to. Just for the next two or three weeks, unless it does get infected, then you come back to me and I'll see if I send you to the doctor, yeah?"

"You're not the boss of me."

"Okay, are you seven? That's the best come back you could come up with?" he laughs.

I slap his chest, wincing slightly when it shoots a jolt through my arm.

"Shut up, I'm tired."

He laughs fondly at me, looking like he was having this conversation with an adorable child instead of an eighteen-year-old girl.

"I'm going to give you my number and you are going to call me if something happens."

"Do you people have a gene for caring for people?" I tease. "Or is it just me you have a soft spot for?"

He laughs. "Nice to know I'm turning into my mother."

He smiles at me, and I manage to genuinely smile back.

When he gives me a bag of care supplies and saves his number in my phone, it's been at least a half-an-hour, and definitely past midnight. I thank him with a one-armed hug and walk out the door, the bell above ringing as I pass through.

The warm summer air feels surprisingly nice on my skin. My head feels shockingly sober, and I opt to find a Starbucks instead of a bar.

I turn to walk down the sidewalk towards the Starbucks I know just around the corner. I stop in my tracks.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?" I snap at Michael. He takes a lazy step forward.

"One of the fourth floorers told us his cousin texted him that you were getting a tattoo at his parlor."

"Max?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yep."

His eyes look tired under the streetlamps, shoulders sagging and hands lazily tucked into the pockets of his jean jacket.

"How'd you get here?"

"Took a cab." He shifts on his feet. "We've been looking for you all day. You were gone for over twelve hours, you know?" He roughly shoves a hand through his hair. "Would you mind telling me what I'm supposed to do here? I don't know what else I can handle, honestly. None of anything seems to be working, so."

"You don't actually have to do anything, you know," I snap. "I'm a big girl."

He actually has the audacity to  _laugh_ \--shocked and incredulous, eyes looking almost manic.

"Seriously?!" he shouts, looking crazed. "Andi, I know we have different perspectives on the situation, but you've been completely losing it! You're basically a drunk! You spend more time bordering on unconscious than you do lucid! You don't do anything! The only time you really talk is when you're falling off your ass, completely swimming in booze!"

He throws his arms up in the air, exasperated, a faux exhausted smile on his lips.

"We're so fucking scared! I'm so fucking scared, Andi! It's so hard to watch you being so lost in yourself! I miss talking to you! I haven't gotten to kiss you in days! I can't sleep! I'm tired but I'm so stressed out, it doesn't do anything!" He sucks in a ragged breath. I notice tears prickling in his eyes. "I love you so much I've been willingly allowing myself to be torn down. It's been like this long enough. You need to do some actual coping. All shutting out has to end. I need for me--for all of us--to be enough for you. At least enough for you to spend more than an hour a day sober." He lets out a deep sigh, blinking and reaching out for empty space desperately. "Now, can we  _please go home_?"

I look down and shuffle my feet. Between the fresh air and Michael's lecture, most of the fog has been pretty much forced from my head.

"I'm not choosing to do this. Or, I guess I am, technically. But, I never chose for any of this to happen, you know?"

"I know," he says, voice soft and tired. He takes the remaining steps toward me. "But you have to stop, okay? Babe,  _please_. We need you to stop." He's proper begging now, reddened eyes looking into mine. His lip quivers and my emotions range anger, sadness, guilt, worry.

"How about we just go home for now," I say meekly.

It's not what either of us would prefer, but it's a compromise. I know I'm at least not so far gone to be completely heartless, and I'm too emotionally exhausted to want to go anywhere else. There's really nowhere I want to be, so I guess home is as good as anything.

A tear leaks down Michael's cheek when he squeezes them shut as a rush of breath releases from his lungs.

"I'll take it."

He throws his arms around my neck, burying his head in my hair. He feels firm and strong against me. He feels safe, and I didn't realize he could do that. I feel my own chest expand a tad, letting out a breath I've been holding captive in my chest for months. I hook my arms under his, clutching his shoulders tightly in my hands. I let my head relax and rest against him.

He turns to press a kiss to the side of my head, and I feel my muscles give way in his arms, allowing myself to relax into him. My eyes slip shut and I let him hold me in the middle of the sidewalk at what must be well past midnight.

Whatever this is is a weird feeling, but I'm too tired to fret about it right now. I'll obsess over it later. For now, I press a lazy kiss to his shoulder, letting myself revel in the relief he lets out in a sob when I do.

I don't know what the fuck this night has turned into. Sneaking out just this morning feels centuries away, and all the ups and downs since leading to this seem like a distant memory.

Now, I really just want to breathe.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> google 'llamas' i dare you .xx

_I will never let you fall. I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all, even if saving you sends me to heaven._

_[«Your Guardian Angel» The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus](https://youtu.be/jRehmX3zlwE) _

\-----

"Would you stop? You're gonna give yourself brain damage," Luke laughs. He pulls my head up to a halt by my jacket collar.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" He rolls his eyes and lets my head fall back to the desk.

"Giving your brain a boo-boo won't actually fix anything."

"I'll have to disagree," I mumble into the blank handout assignment on top of my unopened textbook. When I sit up with a loud sigh, the paper sticks to my forehead and Luke chuckles as he picks it off.

"She's only been sober for a few weeks. It's never been an overnight thing, with her."

"But, if we're looking at it that way, she was only really drinking for a few weeks, too, so..." I drone obnoxiously.

"Yeah, but she's been suffering for years."

I scowl at the way Luke scrunches his mouth, very sympathetic and patronizing.

"You and R need to stop reading your Psych books in your free time."

Luke laughs. "Tell her that. Ever since Mrs. Rylen lectured the chapter on addictions, R hasn't let it out of her sight. I checked her Google history the other day, and half the searches that weren't related to Dave Grohl or gifs of Evan Peters were fancy medical words I'd never heard before."

"Three things." I hold one finger between our faces. "One: Dave Grohl is God and shall not be questioned. Two: Evan Peters can suck my dick and I say that as a complete compliment." I ignore Luke's confused grimace. "Three: you go through your girlfriend's phone, mate?"

Luke's eyebrows are scrunched. "All right-- _four_ things." He dramatically flails a patronizing finger in my face before I shove him away. "One: agreed. Two: _what are you even?_ Three: I'm a concerned boyfriend making sure the woman I love isn't spending too much of her life researching a combination of good looking, attractive men who aren't me and some miracle she's after that doesn't exist to fix her best friend. And-- _four_ : are we just going to completely skip over the entire point of what I was trying to say in the first place?" He gives me a pointed look as he lets his shoulders shrug and hands fall into his lap.

"One--"

"Stop." He holds his hand flat in front of my face before I can get the next word out. "Let's just skip to the point, yeah?"

I huff in defeat and Luke briefly show a victorious smirk before he lets it fall from his face entirely, and I know he's over playing my games.

"I'm still trying my best."

"I know," Luke says easily, "and it's been working, piece by piece. She hasn't been drunk since she ran off. She's already finished her book for Mr. Berkins' class. She turned in that big missing lab she had for chemistry last week with little help from any of us. Pretty sure that's more homework than she did before."

I scoff a laugh. "Well she did her homework, it was just all from the internet."

"We both do the same exact thing, so can't judge for that one," Luke says as he slaps my arm. "And she still does that, for the record."

"Oh, I know. You're not the only one snooping through Google," I laugh.

"I can't tell if we're creeps or loving boyfriends."

"It's a very fine line."

"Dating is hard."

I give him an unbelieving look and he just raises his hands in surrender.

"You're not the only one carrying your girlfriend's baggage. Although, I'll admit, mine is somewhat less."

"Yeah," I huff. "Then again, you have to carry R's _and_ Andi's."

"So do you. They're a package deal, both ways."

"Their codependency can be frightening," I laugh. "R reminds Andi daily to drink water because she'll forget and go without the whole day. That was even _before_ anything. That was just a normal occurrence."

"Those girls aren't normal."

"No kidding."

"I taped a plastic spider to the bottom of the orange juice jug, and I couldn't sit down for a week."

"I'm surprised you can _walk_. How did you take it to the bottom?"

Luke shrugs. "I emptied it into an old container. Calum helped me with a chopstick and tape. Used a funnel and poured like one-third back in. Simple."

"Is that why Cal had the big bruise on his shin last week?"

"Yep." Luke nods vehemently.

"You sold him out?"

"Have you seen R when she's angry?! She's fucking terrifying, I wasn't going down alone!"

"Then don't tape a fucking spider to your girlfriend's juice!"

"If I don't, who will?!"

"Your mom!"

"My mom wouldn't do it, she loves R more than she loves me!"

"That says a lot more about you than it does about her."

"I'm aware," he mutters and pouts back in his seat. I chuckle, flicking his hair into his face.

"Don't pout, Lukey. Is'not pretty."

He puffs the strands away before combing them over with his hand, expression turning boastful and cocky.

"R doesn't seem to mind it."

I feel my face twist in a grimace before I can even tell it to do so.

"TMI, mate."

He shrugs, remorselessly. "Works just as well on your mom."

"No more mom jokes."

"You started it."

"Yeah, but mine wasn't creepy, nor will it give permanently scarring nightmares."

"You don't know."

"Yes, that seems to be the case for a lot of things, doesn't it?"

We both look up to Mr. Tyson's emotionless glare looming over us.

"Sorry, sir," we say as we bow our heads to our papers.

"The assignment's due tomorrow," he mutters as he walks away.

"Wait," Luke says, halting Mr. Tyson in his step. "We don't even have your class tomorrow."

"Then I'll see you at lunch."

He moves on to the next student raising their hand with a question before we can argue any further. I slouch in my seat.

"I blame you."

"What?" Luke squeaks.

"I feel like most things are your fault, in the end."

He scoffs. "And how do you figure that?"

I shrug. "Science."

He rolls his eyes, but diverts his attention back to the sheet in front of him, grabbing his pencil and scratching his name at the top. I follow with a heavy sigh.

We work in silence for a few minutes, actually looking through the book for answers before pulling out our phones and hiding them behind papers.

It's Luke who breaks the silence first, either boredom or thoughts imploding to his breaking point,

"How'd the movie go with Andi last night?"

His voice is obvious in revealing his curiosity. I'm surprised he lasted this long. I could see it on his face when we got back, either waiting for the right opportunity to sneak the question into conversation or holding back since everyone was still in the room. It was our third 'date' since Everything.

I let my pencil drop back to the desk with a sigh.

"It was fine."

"Describe 'fine'."

I roll my eyes. "It was just like the other times."

"What movie did you see?"

" _Aloha_."

"Hello to you, too."

"Idiot."

"Sorry." Luke smirks. "Why that one?"

I shrug. "I don't know. She loves Bradley Cooper--"

"Who doesn't?"

"Don't interrupt," I snap. He surrenders with his hands and waits for me to continue, "The guy from _The Office_ is also in it, and all these other people and online it was supposed to be really good and expected to win all these awards or whatever."

When I remain silent, Luke prompts, "And...?"

I sigh. "And she liked it."

"That's good."

"I guess."

Luke slams his head against his desk loud enough that I turn to make sure Mr. Tyson didn't notice enough to draw his attention back to us. He remains hunched over another girl's paper, so I deem the coast clear and turn back to my appear-to-be-dying friend.

"What?" I question incredulously.

"Am I going to have to coax every last word out of your mouth or are you ever actually going to talk?"

"Depends. How will you be 'coaxing these words out of my mouth'?"

"Shut down that smirk right now or I will slap Mr. Tyson's ass and pin it all on you."

"That's more scarring for you than me."

"That's a sacrifice I am unfortunately willing to make."

"Ew."

"I know."

"Don't do it."

"Don't make me do it."

"What am I supposed to be doing again?"

"Telling me about your damned date!" Luke explodes.

"Hemmings! Clifford!" Tyson's voice booms from across the classroom, startling us both in our seats. "Both of you--out of my classroom and take your things with you!"

I shoot Luke a glare but stuff my things in my bag. I chuck it over my shoulder and walk to the door, only hardly slowly when it takes a moment to hear Luke's steps behind me. He falls into step next to me silently as we head to the library to wait for the bell.

I shouldn't have to explain myself to Luke when it's obvious I don't want to talk about it. He knows goddamn well how it actually went, by now, and that should be damn well enough for him. Everything's fine when I don't have to sit and mope about it; I remain in the moment and do what I can and remember it's a process and not obsess over the fact that the process is going to hell and nothing seems to be getting better. If I just keep looking forward I don't have to feel how shitty it is that someone I love is so unaffected by the fact that I'm giving myself to her in every way I can manage to just help her through this.

I give a closed mouth smile to the librarian and take a seat at a table in the back. Luke collapses in the chair next to me and I pull out my phone, fully intent on ignoring him for the remainder of the period and playing Candy Crush with headphones in.

"Not finished, you know?"

Luke can go to hell.

I drop my phone on the table and it clatters before settling. I huff and give him my attention with arms across my chest.

"It didn't change anything, all right? Nothing's changed and she's still miserable and stoic. I haven't seen a genuine smile on my girlfriend's face in months and I can't do anything to fix it. Is that good enough for you?"

He sighs. "Not really."

"Then what the fuck do you want me to say?"

"That it's not your fault Andi is depressed."

"I know that."

"Believe it, then."

I shut my eyes. "Shut up, Luke."

I laugh at how not ten minutes ago my ribs ached so much less in the presence of my best friend, and now his face associates with the cement rapidly coating their surfaces and making them feel so much heavier.

"Please, let yourself breathe."

"Oxygen is a luxury when your lungs are filled with razors and sand."

I hear him let out a sigh beside me. His chair shuffles against the carpet until his head is resting on my shoulder, tucked into my neck. I viscously bite down on the sudden traitorous tremble of my lip, and my voice squeaks when I open my mouth,

"Why can't I make her smile?"

"Well..." Luke's breath shakes as it fans my skin. "She lost her reason to smile. You have to give her another one."

"I'm trying," I chuckle manically.

"I know. You're doing so much better than I know any of us would be in your situation, though. I'd like to say I wouldn't give up if it were me, but I don't actually know if I would know how to keep on going."

"But I _don't_ know."

"But you're still going, and when this is all over, I know Andi is going to love you so much for it; that you didn't give up on her when that's all you thought there was left to do."

I choke out a sob. Luke awkwardly wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve and lay it across Luke's giant-ass shoulders.

Andi would smack me for thinking how _it feels like home_. Maybe I'll tell her about it when she's better and let her whine my ear off about clichés. Maybe I'll tape it and save it for a rainy day.


	41. Chapter 41

_I can't sleep tonight, wide awake and so confused. Everything's in line, but I am bruised. I need a voice to echo. I need a light to take me home. I kinda need a hero. Is it you?_

_[«Nightingale» Demi Lovato](https://youtu.be/pkqsqWcdih4) _

\----- 

"Well don't you look ravishing," Rayden laughs as the bell above the door settles behind me.  
  
"Shut it," I grumble.  
  
He wipes his hands on a rag at his workstation. I slump down in the nearest chair.  
  
"You do realize it's almost three in the morning, right?" he chuckles. “A little late for your usual visits.”  
  
"I'm well aware." My eyes slip shut. I lay my head back against the reclining parlor chair. I hear him sigh and shuffle near.  
  
"Come on, scooch," he ushers, tapping my side till I make enough room for him to slip in beside me. He pulls down the armrest to keep him from tumbling over and I curl into his chest. He wraps a solid arm around my body.  
  
"There's a whole lounge area not five yards away, just so I know we're all aware."  
  
I smirk into his shirt. "I know."  
  
It feels safe squished in the narrow work chair, bracketed by armrests and real arms. He kisses my temple. I nuzzle into his neck, gripping a handful of his tee.  
  
"Wanna tell me why you're here at three o'clock in men's pajamas?"  
  
"Not really," I mumble.  
  
"Will you just tell me if I need to be worried?"  
  
I smile weakly. "I'll let you know when you need to be worried."  
  
"No, you won't."  
  
I shrug. His fingers lightly feather across my back.  
  
"It's been six months."  
  
He pops his head up to look at me. I pick at a dot of fleece on his chest.  
  
"Six months since what?"  
  
"Since Michael."  
  
He exhales into my hair, kissing my temple.  
  
"I wouldn't have even known. Michael told Luke, Luke told Evan, and Evan told me. I think it's been at least four months since he told me he loved me. He still says it, sometimes. I haven't said it back to him, though." I twist my neck, straining to meet his gaze. "How long is it supposed to take to fall in love with someone?"  
  
Fondly, he huffs a laugh.  
  
"I don't think there is any specific number of days someone is expected to fall in love. There aren't many parameters for this stuff."  
  
I sigh. "I looked up how you're supposed to know when you're in love."  
  
"And?" I can feel his smile against my head.  
  
"I'm still scared." I close my eyes. "I'm making him so sad, Ray. All the times I can never force a smile at him, his eyes show just how much he's dying inside. And, I know it's not just him and they're all worried about me, but he's trying so hard. I'm doing better, I know I am. Smiling just hasn't come back to me yet. I want to be better for all of them, especially him and R. I'm trying." I take a deep breath. "Will you tell me how I know if I love him?"  
  
"Do you think you love him?"  
  
"I don't know." I shrug. "But I'm starting to think--maybe. Or maybe I'm falling in love, but maybe I'm already in love. I'm sad all the time but it scares me how much he can fix that. If I know whether or not I love him, I can just take that and go from there. Right now, it's all just twisted."  
  
"All right then," he starts. I cuddle closer to him like a child who has to be told a bedtime story before she can fall asleep. "It's been awhile since I've been in love. Broke up a few years back. But how 'bout we start with this? How do you know you love R?"  
  
The closest thing I've come to a genuine smile in months pulls at my lips.  
  
"For one, I get super sappy thinking about her. Like, I can find her in lyrics of love songs. Not always on purpose, I'll just be listening to something and she's suddenly on my mind.  
I have a playlist for some of my favorites that I listen to when I want to smile or feel loved.

"When I image the future, she's always there, and that's something that's never happened before. I've actually started to be able to picture her never leaving.

"When I think of all the things I want to do: travel, get lost in a foreign country, sit on the couch and watch reruns in a new place, cook dinner, burn dinner, order takeout and eat it on the floor when we can't afford furniture, dance in the rain, take naps; she’s the other person.

“And although no matter how hard I try, I don’t really understand exactly what it means to say that I trust someone, I think if I were to trust someone in this world, it’d be her.

"When I'm feeling down and I just want her cuddles because they make everything feel better. She makes me feel safe and loved and wanted. Like, the world kind of makes a little more sense when she's holding my hand, I guess.”

“And when you think about loving Michael, what do you think of?” Ray prompts, words mumbled in my ear. He presses a kiss to my temple. My skin buzzes and my breath shakes.

“That’s where I get lost. And really, isn’t that just it?”

He raises himself to rest on his elbow, hovering and looking down on me. I feel small and hold tighter to his shirt clutched in my fist.

I don’t know if it’s actually possible, but Ray’s eyes seem to tremble. The light bounces around the warm brown irises. His eyes aren’t the same brown as my own--his are darker and chocolatey, a warm mud blob around each pupil. They shine with genuine feeling and concern. They feel safe.

“What do you mean?”  
  
“I appreciate that they care--that Michael cares. Seriously, I can’t tell if there is actually something else going in their minds because I don’t understand why they voluntarily let me make them miserable. So, yeah, they’re great. But they want me to talk about it. They want me to explain. I don’t have an explanation to give them, and it’s so fucking stressful when they give me these desperate looks like all they want is to shake me until I can tell them everything that’s going on in my head, but I don’t fucking know! I don’t know and I’m lost and they’re looking to me for answers and I’m losing all of us and I can’t figure out where I’m going and all I want is to collapse. To just fucking collapse where I stand and never have to move my own two feet again because maybe if I don’t walk on my own someone will have to carry me away and it won’t be up to me to figure everything out when I don’t have a fucking clue. I don’t have an inkling of what I’m doing and I am so confused and I feel numb and my head won’t even let me into reality anymore.  

“It’s like there’s this two-way mirror and I’m stuck looking out into this weird and fuzzy world but I can’t look back at myself and see what is actually happening to me. All I see is what’s far away from me. Everything is too far away for me to grasp and hold onto. I’m left in this windowed room looking out at everything that appears to be a distant existence that I can’t be a part of. How can I figure myself out when all I can see is a vague image of everything else? There’s nothing for me to hold onto; nothing solid and nothing constant. I look down and it’s another looking glass. There is no real place for me to stand without being terrified of falling through to the bottomless fog holding everything I’ve lost and everything I can’t remember; it’s my world that belongs to someone else now. How am I supposed to navigate where I’m going when my path belongs to someone I lost so long ago that she’s nothing but a twisting swirl in the fading fog that keeps me prisoner in a glass box with a body my mind knows only as a stranger? I’m a stranger in my own mind so how the bloody fuck do I explain what’s going on inside the head of a person I don’t know?! And it’s not like anyone else can look and tell me! They’re all looking back into a mirror. They don’t understand what is going on inside because, to them, everything is crystal clear and the world is as it always was. They don’t see how blind it is inside. They’re as locked out to me as I am to myself. I am literally lost. I can’t be found because I’m here. I am right here in the middle of the universe securely in my stationery box. No one knows how to look for something that is right in front of them. They figure they already found the box, there’s not much else they can do. And they’re right! There’s nothing left for them to fix the pristine image staring back at them! They’ve done everything right and set that box up for success but all that box can fucking do is sit there! They look at this glass shell waiting around for it to crack so they can see inside and understand the creature they’ve done all this for and see that it wasn’t for nothing because now that they have the next puzzle in front of them they can piece it together. But--I don’t know--do I have to break for that to happen? Because I thought I already shattered a long time ago. Do I break the mirror? Because I’d just get torn to pieces by falling shards collapsing around me. I’d be a broken and bloody mess unprotected and vulnerable in the foggy universe--” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ray soothes, petting my head in a way that makes me a bit like a golden retriever but it feels nice and comforting all the same. “Shh… you’re okay.”

It isn’t until he starts rocking us back and forth that I realize how quick my breaths are and notice this burning in my eyes. My arms shake where I am holding onto him like the darkness may suck him up and take him away from me at any moment.

“Shh… shh… I got you,” he whispers against my head, lips pressed close. I force my eyes closed and do my best to take deep breaths. Rayden tucks his hand underneath the left sleeve of my t-shirt, absentmindedly tracing his thumb over the black letters in script needled beneath my skin.

 _‘Nothing Gold Can Stay’_  

The soothing feeling of Rayden’s finger gently petting my skin and the rocking sensation calms my heart and lungs, emotional exhaustion making my eyelids feel heavy. Safe in one of the few set of arms I trust, being held tight, I let my eyes rest shut.

Seconds away from being lulled into tranquil unconsciousness, the bell above the entrance rings. My eyes remain shut.

Rayden’s movements slowly calm to a halt. He turns his head, lips above my ear. He murmurs, “Hey, love. Wake up.”

“I’m awake,” I mumble. He snickers, tickling my ear. I scrunch my shoulder to rub at the light prickling.

“ _Get_ up, then.”

With a huff and a muttered ‘ _asshole_ ’--mostly a term of endearment--I push myself into a sitting position.

Michael stands a few meters away, hands stuffed tightly in the pockets of the jean jacket he has over his hoodie. He looks snuggly in his loose sweats, worn-out thongs, and a beanie over his messy hair.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, expression an odd combination of exhaustion and determination that shouldn’t really make sense, but there it is.

“Wanna get a tattoo.”

“Wait--what?” I narrow my stare at him. “Since when?”

He shrugs again, despondent.

“Been thinking about it for awhile. When I woke up and noticed you were gone, I figured you’d be here, so why not?”

“You sure, man?” Rayden asks. “Do you know what you want?”

Michael’s throat bobs as he swallows, looking in my eyes when he answers, “yes.”

“All right,” Ray says, awkwardly trying to maneuver out of the chair without disrupting me, which--too late. “We can do it out here or I have a room in the back?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Let’s go to the back, then. Better set-up there.”

Michael nods. He follows as Ray leads him down the hall and turn left to the private room. When the door shuts, I fall back in the chair. That was an unexpected twist to my night. I let myself lay with eyes closed for a few minutes, trying to wake up from the tranquil state I only briefly visited.

With a heavy sigh, I pull myself up and force my legs to carry me towards the back. When I pull the door open, I see Michael laying in an identical parlor chair. He’s shed his upper layers, jackets and t-shirt left in a pile on the back counter. Even pasty white and tiny muffin top, Michael manages to be impressively attractive shirtless. It’s been awhile since that would be a thing I’d take notice of. Sure, the guys often hang around the warehouse bare-chested, especially as the weather heats up, but with the fog clouding my mind, it wasn’t a thing I spent much time thinking about. Now, though, it’s almost freeing to stare at the guy I’ve been dating for half a year without a shirt on and feel a blush creep up my face.

I take a deep breath before moving to sit on an extra wheeled-stool, pulling it up beside Michael. Opposite me, Ray sterilizes and gels a patch right along the top of Michael’s left collarbone. It must be a pretty simple design because they were able to put together a template while I was out front. Ray places the stencil parallel to Michael’s collarbone, pressing down so the ink takes to the skin. A few seconds later, Ray carefully peels the paper away, leaving the outlined script soon to be permanently marked on Michael’s chest.

_‘Stay Gold’_

“Like it?”

I snap up at Michael’s question, jaw gaping open and eyes wild. I swallow down the thickness in my throat.

“Um--where’d this, like, come from?”

He holds eye contact but scoffs fondly.

“You say nothing gold can stay; that nothing good lasts long. Gold to me is the specks in your eyes that shine bright in the sunlight, they shimmer like glitter, seriously.” He laughs airily, expression wondrous. “It’s bizarre and amazing. I love just watching them.” He ducks his head. “But, yeah, they kind of dimmed a bit recently. It’s gotten better. They’re not as dull as they were when everything was at its worst. So,” he lifts his head once again, “I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be here to remind you just how golden you can be.”

“That’s--”

“Totally and sickeningly cliché?” Michael smirks. “Yeah, I’m well aware. And I know how much you hate clichés, but I’ve gotta go with what works here, and that's the reason they're clichés in the first place, right? Because there's something about them that works over and over again. People may hate that their redeeming qualities keep them around, but most fall into the trap anyways. So, I’m getting a cliché tattoo because I love you and I want to.”

It’s admittedly winsome how he subtly puffs up his chest when he’s finished, looking pleased with himself.

I find his eyes, and suddenly I feel proud of him too. He figured it out. I don't think I could tell you what it was, but he found it and knew what to do. He's a great guy I know I don't deserve, especially given the past months and all he’s been doing and all the things I haven't been. He deserves the world but he now seems so content with just me.

He once told me the world didn't rest on my shoulders, but that he would carry the burden I felt regardless. I hadn't believed him, because how could he know all that he was signing himself up for, and didn't he know it wasn't just that simple? I still don't think it really is, but he found a way to do it because for months I’ve been leaning on him even if I convinced myself I could stand miserably on my own. He held me up when I fell.

Somewhere along the line, I guess I must've fallen for him, too.

Air whooshes out of my lungs like a whoopee cushion in a compressor, harsh and relieving of pressure, with a sound like a gust of white noise thrashing through thorny brush. It's shaky, inconsistent, and ragged. My brain feels fuzzy and pixelated, like white dots of noise on a blank television screen that's knocked out by a raging storm outside thin walls. My eyes prickle like needles forcing tears to spring like the holes they made in my irises themselves are leaking liquid emotion. They don't fall, though. Just stay there on the edge of my lids and blur Michael's soft features and warm face. Even warped, his image reveals he most likely had guessed what was suddenly running through my mind moments after the thoughts first appeared. It's overwhelming.

“I’m sorry.”

His expression twists a bit, expecting possibly a different confession to fall simply from my mouth.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Not being everything you deserve always. You're amazing, and I’m also sorry for being too selfish and caught up in my own mind to see how incredible you are and all you’ve been doing for me."

His smile returns, and he takes my hand in his as Ray comes over with a sterile needle and permanent ink.


	42. Chapter 42

_ _

_Stand in the mirror, and try to imagine forever. What does it look like, facing my greatest endeavor?_

_Suddenly closing my eyes, hands up for the very first time; I'm closing my eyes._

_Tell me, "Don't give up!" Tell me, "There's someone out there!" Give me a pure love. Give me a forever that we both can share._

_Show me it's okay! Show me it's all right! That I'm far from crazy for living by faith and not by sight._

[ _«Tell Me» He Is We_ _**_ ](https://youtu.be/1Hc1-8frYdM)

_\-----_

"Take a walk with me," Michael said as we step outside. It wasn't a question, but I knew this wasn't him forcing me. I had the choice. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly proud of myself for taking a step forward and grabbing his unprompted hand. It's kind of like the "one small step for man, a fucking leap for mankind." Maybe not, but the message there is similar. I could tell as much when Michael's eyes sparkled and he laced his fingers through mine. He expected me to trudge along behind him, or maybe just refuse to go at all. It wouldn't be the first time. It also wouldn't be the last, but it's a step. A slight shift in the right direction.

He leads us down the street in silence. It's still much too early for the sun to be peeking above the horizon, but the street lamps illuminate paired spaces in softened circles that fade away along the edges complete the atmosphere better than something as innocent as natural rays of light ever could. It's solemn and it's dark, but the lack of visible reminders of reality around us is comforting.

Even past the middle of the night, too early in the day to be considered true morning, the air is warm and dewy. When Michael first came into my life, spring was just beginning to bloom. Now two seasons have passed, another at its peak, and every aspect of my life has changed.

I was going to university. I didn't need to work thirty-plus hours a week to have any hope of gaining a degree one day. I didn't have reason to worry my mom would receive an unfortunate bank statement in the mail. I never had to come up with excuses to have at the ready if that day ever were to come. I didn't have an ugly, jagged scar along my side that would do nothing but raise questions if it ever peeked beneath my top. I didn't have to wear singlets under t-shirts, just in case. I didn't have a drinking problem and never had to have my best friends pry a bottle from my fingers, or be held down while the murky liquid was poured down the drain. I didn't have a boy that loved me more than I loved myself.

We walk for a little while. It's mostly silent, the night still. The only movements our steady steps and Michael's occasional kisses pressed to my temple. Eventually, Michael pulls us to a stop. I look up from where I had been staring at my feet and find us standing on the edge of a grassy park. A few meters away the grass ends at a circular patch of sand where a modest plastic jungle gym is set up in the center. Off to the sides, there's a teeter-totter, animals propped on spiral springs, a roundabout, and a swing set. My lips twitch knowingly.

Michael tugs lightly where our hands are still joined and walks us across the field. He leads us all the way to the pair on swings before he turns to meet my eyes. Some of the hesitation I caught in his gaze melts away as he notices the lack in mine. He tentatively leans to leave a soft kiss on my lips before stepping back.

"Come on," he says lightly. He falls back onto the plastic slab, leaning away holding onto the chains. "Pull up a seat."

I'm silent when I sit on the empty swing, using my toes to gently push away from the ground. I get a rhythm going, but keep from going further than where my feet would have to leave the ground. The slight breeze created from the movement feels nice against the heavy air.

"You're better than I deserve."

"I don't need platitudes to make me feel better," I say in a self-deprecating tone that admits acceptance. I look over at Michael with an only slightly sullen grin. "I know better than most how great you've been--you _are_ \--and you know I've been less than ideal these last six months. Then again, I wasn't exactly a delight I'm sure the few months I knew you before that even."

Michael laughs softly at that, "You were a bit of a pain back then, not gonna lie about that."

"I'm still a pain," I chuckle. Michael shakes his head.

"There's no love without pain."

"I love you." And in that moment, the world stands still, and all of the other ridiculous cliches--time heals all wounds, when it rains it pours, love is blind, and everything happens for a reason.

_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

_Baptism by fire._

_It is what it is._

_Good things come to those who wait._

_All that glitters is not gold._

_As beautiful as the day is long._

_A dancer blaming the stage._

_If wishes were horses, beggars would ride._

_Not a sprint, but a marathon._

_A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step._

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

_Once burned, twice shy._

_Emotional roller coasters._

_Dark clouds and silver linings._

_It comes down to sink or swim._

_Damned if you do and damned if you don't._

_Trial by fire._

_Like opening Pandora's box._

_Two is better than one._

_Truth is stranger than fiction._

\--all the idiotic sayings and phrases that plague society and take away the need for original thought or creativity in language, spend those few moments living as truths. In a few hours when I wake, they will return to meaninglessness. But for tonight, they mean I am allowed to let myself love. _And that's okay._

"I love you," I repeat in my moment of clarity. I repeat it again and again out loud and in my head and each time its truth becomes truer. _I'm in love._

Michael remains frozen. His face blank, expression sparing no more than subtle hints that his mind continues to race behind his wide eyes.

I laugh at the empty feeling in my chest. Feeling hollow is no new sensation, but never has it been this weightless. Instead of a boulder crushing everything inside and leaving a cavity of powdered remains behind my ribs, it feels like everything has expanded to make space for the types of dust particles that reflect and shimmer in the rays of sunlight to flutter through my abdomen.

Burning is also nothing new. Having flames burn my lungs to char and making them dry, brittle, flaky. Controlling my breaths carefully as not to disturb the crisp cage, hoping against hopes that a gust never whirls everything inside me to blackened dust, like an overcooked marshmallow over a bonfire by the sea that blows fragile layers of sugar sacrificed to the wind in your eyes. Heavy coals singeing my delicate interior skin and leaving behind the types of raw burns that even a gentle brush of a hand against could cause your body to combust from the flashing pain.

These burns are mundane occurrences I've become accustomed to, and have even found a warped sense of safety and comfort with. The breaths of flames in my chest now feel _alive_. They are nothing akin to death or dust. This fire has a pulse and it whips around as I suck in breaths, feeding off the oxygen and fluttering in ripples of heat. It warms my body from the inside out; starting in my chest, boiling my heart, and spreading through my veins until I am ablaze. My head prickles with runaway sparks.

"You love me?" he asks in a sigh that sounds like it was let out before it had time to collect enough oxygen. Finally, he seems to have his own moment of clarity, and an innocent smile peeks through his lips. The next gust of air that rushes from his lungs is breathless and euphoric, nothing weighing it down.

"Holy shit," he laughs. I chuckle and he pulls me towards him, my swing stretching as it's tugged from its dictated, straightforward path. "I love you so fucking much."

The shake in my breath is overwhelmed, but pleasant.

"I love you, too," I whisper to him, blending in the surrounding silence.

Michael's smile is tentative. Loving. Careful and calculated. Natural.

He tugs on my hand until I raise from my seat, the swing gently catapulting back to its place. His eyes hold mine and his lips turn up higher on the right side of his face. Michael guides me towards him, taking my empty hand and bringing me closer until my arms are gently woven around his shoulders. He drops his hands to my hips. He tentatively leads my knees to his sides until they are fully bent and resting tightly between the swing and his waist. I lower onto his lap.

He smiles up at me, and the moonlight reflecting on his bisque face makes his cheeks look like soft snow has dusted over them. The same eyes that got me into this mess, that got me here, color like green flint rocks, paler than jade but warmer than mint, hold mine in a stare.

My thighs stick to the rubbery plastic of the swing, but a cool brush of wind chills the clammy skin, making me shiver. Michael quirks an amused smile, but circles his thumbs around the juts of my hips, grounding me to him. The hair on the back of his neck brush against my fingers. I let myself thread the colored strands, curling the thinner hairs towards the base of his neck around my pointer finger. They are short and young, still healthy, and feel closer to silk on my skin.

"My favorite kiss is still the one in your backyard," Michael whispers, "before anything had happened. I was terrified, just do you know. When I agreed to help you with a research project, it never occurred to me it'd mean making out with you in a blasted tree," he laughs. "At the time, I don't think I thought I'd want to. You were a friend, still kind of new to me. I knew I wanted to know you more. You were this enigma I could tell only got more twisted with depth. I wanted to find the chaos inside."

"Well you fucking definitely accomplished that," I laugh, and he joins softly before allowing silence to grow again.

"I even did my own research on eyes, you know."

"You never mentioned that."

"I learned that the same gene that develops the frontal lobe in the brain, the part that is supposed to contain most personality traits, also develops the iris. In a way, eyes truly are a window to the soul, a person spelled out in colors and specks, unknowingly showing themselves to the world but only some consciously pick up on everything it reveals. Only some spend time looking into their eyes and realizing all that stares back."

"I knew that," I mutter shyly, impressed and a tad lost in wonder. He smirks.

"I also learned that people with brown eyes are commonly the independent type, confident, may have trouble when it comes to expressing emotions and feelings. Doesn't mean they aren't completely committed to a relationship. They can learn to share themselves and what lies beneath the surface after they get to know someone. They generally sleep two hours less than people with lighter eyes, have sucky sleep habits, and have a harder time getting up in the morning--or in your case, near impossible and often leading to violence. They tend to want to act tough, but their rich eyes give away how kind and sensitive they can really be. They're usually very creative, and their nature is to take care of people more than they take care of themselves." His face softens and I duck my head.

"I guess that sounds a little familiar."

Michael laughs, and I give way to a smile. A mischievous glint appears in his expression and his lips twist up at the side.

"People with brown eyes are also known to, and I quote, 'make great lovers as they go out of their way to make their loved ones feel satisfied and happy'."

I slap his chest, ducking my head to rest my forehead against his shoulder as I shake with laughter. He laughs with me and pinches my sides.

When I lift my head, my cheek brushes his hair, tickling my skin. I pause at the moment I catch his eyes, a whisper away from my own. I let my breath catch, absorbing the feeling settling in my stomach. The burn of pumping veins returns with a roar, heating beneath my skin. It sears through my body and my heart seems to have to hurry to keep up with the sudden demand for rushing blood.

Michael's breath fans my face. I remember this look; dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, carefully wild eyes with a fire of their own behind them. His gaze flicking to my lip caught between my teeth before catching himself and returning to my eyes. Just like that first time. The feeling of anticipation waiting for something to happen, someone to make the first move and set everything into motion. That first time in that tree with his eyes looking into mine as if frenzied for answers and finding only more questions.

The difference this time: I'm the one to lean in.

With a hand behind Michael's neck, I draw him close and connect my lips to his with a rush of wild freedom and overwhelming fire. His breath is shaky against my lips when he pulls away. Then he dives back, and I let him in. My hands in his hair and his fingers gripping my hips with a desperate force.

Never has a kiss been like this. Never have I felt this open and trusting and simply _okay_ with someone's lips against mine, not even Michael's. Never have I let anyone in enough to feel all that a kiss and a touch can hold. I've never let the fire burn more than skin deep. Now it's in my blood and I relish in the pounding against my veins. Butterflies and a racing heart could never capture the explosion of everything life could offer with another person--a fallible, unpolished human. Expressions could never do justice. Words will never be enough. It's _love_ embodied and alive where lips meet.

"I love you," he gasps against my lips.

"I love you, too." I hiccup a wet laugh and nip at his bottom lip. "Crap, I love you. I really love you. I didn't know if I'd get to love you, but I do. _I am_. I'm loving you in real life, in this moment, in reality, I'm loving you."

He sucks in a desperate breath and cups my face to pull me against him, lining up our bodies and trying to hold every possible point of contact. I feel a wetness against my cheeks and blink back a few tears of my own before letting go and allowing them to fall without fear of showing too much of myself. I part my lips and let him in.

"I've missed kissing you," Michael chuckles in a brief break to catch our breaths. "Haven't gotten to do it enough."

I giggle, "Then stop talking and start making up for all the lost time."

"It wasn't lost time. Nothing was lost. I can't regret anything that led to this feeling with you here, ever. I'm too happy to think about could have been's."

"Sap." I smile.

"Guilty." He smiles back. "Get used to it. I've been saving up ridiculous romantic moments for six months now."

"Oh god," I laugh. "We still have a ways to go, you know."

His expression sobers when he opens his eyes to mine. "I don't think life is ever supposed to be easy. We wouldn't appreciate the moments we do if everything always went smoothly. It makes good times worth saving."

"You know I could've sworn you were more of an idiot when I met you."

Michael laughs. "Experience is the best teacher, and the worst of 'em teach the best lessons."

"We should be geniuses by now, then." I smile. "Maybe we'll actually be able to survive our last year after all."

"Just a few more months." He pauses. "Do you have any more of an idea what you're gonna do after graduation?"

I sigh and sag in his arms. "I still have thousands of dollars to earn before I can afford a real university. Even when I had my full college fund, it still would've been a struggle to pay for four years anywhere. I was thinking I'd probably be able to afford part of the tuition for two years and get some loans. Hopefully, work to make more to get me through the last two years. Then take a decade or two to pay everything off."

"And now? What are you thinking now?"

"Maybe a few online classes or some night school at community college and work during the day. Eventually, make enough to finish whatever of my schooling I have left at a university."

"You could always look into scholarships."

"I'm not good enough at anything to get scholarships."

"Are you kidding?" Michael laughs. "You're an amazing artist. You're great at English and Literature."

"But not better than all the other people who apply for those scholarships."

He sighs, looking slightly frustrated with my stubbornness, but still understanding what I was telling him. Still understanding the rational conclusions.

"Why don't you just try, yeah?"

I stare at Michael's unfeigned eyes. I huff when I realize I was fighting a pointless battle. There was no harm in trying, and it'd let us both move on from the remaining inklings of hope.

"Yeah, all right. I can give it a shot."

 


	43. Chapter 43

_ _

_There's a story in my veins, with scars at every page. It's written on my face, I'm a proud survivor. Staring in the mirror, I'm not holding back the tears. All the hurt that brought me here only takes me higher._

[«Fighting» Saints of Valory](https://youtu.be/nTFnIKDNvss)

\-----

And suddenly, within a matter of hours, my life became a swirl of applications and forms and essays.

By the time I woke up the next morning--after the night of swings and Michael--R and the guys were all filled in that I'd be trying for scholarships. That apparently I was once again trying. That there was new hope that I would be going to college. Even though none of the guys had even considered the prospect, it was now vital to them that I attend.

 _"But you_ want _to go," Ashton argued. "You actually want to spend four years becoming a fancy smarty-pants and do artsy things and make an actual career for yourself."_

_"Yeah, we're comfortable screwing around on instruments until someone pays us a few bajillion dollars so we never have to do anything again," Calum said._

When I sat up in bed, they were all swarming around with devices, using their phones for research on the internet, and typing up lists of possibilities and application requirements, deadlines and contact information. Once R spotted my eyes open, I was surrounded with screens and voices trying to talk over each other. I finally had to spray them all until my bottle was emptied and they took twelve steps back.

From there, they told me I had ten minutes to get ready to leave. They had been waiting for me to wake so I could be well rested before going together to the public library so they wouldn't have to work off their phones and get some actual research done. I threw on some acceptable enough bottoms and a t-shirt that may or may not actually belong to me.

We met Evan and Ember there and the eight of us spent seven hours around a big table with printouts of every possible application we could find that I could ever be even remotely eligible for. The librarian showed us the college reference section and stacks of ridiculously thick books were loudly placed in front of me. She sat with us for a while offering advice and recommending different sites to check out, different schools across the country that were known for providing good financial help. I was handed prompt after prompt and I wrote until my hand lost the ability to write a legible sentence. I made Cal move to one of the library computers while I typed until my fingers relaxed enough to start on sketch outlines for some of the talent specific scholarships.

Finally, the librarian had to ask us to leave a half-hour after closing time. We thanked her for staying late for us and packed up our things. We realized we were all famished as we walked to the van, and decided to get some late dinner at the diner. We each ate more portions than we thought possible. By the time we got back to the warehouse, we all collapsed and were asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows/cushions/bean bags.

Then we went back and did it all again the next day.

Today, we're supposed to split up and ask our favorite teachers and advisors if they know of anything else I'd be eligible for. Or any advice they could offer for substance in the applications.

Ashton is coming with me to talk to Mr. Berkins, and Luke and Ember are tagging along for Mrs. Trixie. Cal and R have Mrs. McNally and Mr. Tyson. Michael and Evan have Dr. Mafia and Mrs. Gavich. Luke is even asking Mrs. Rylen, for crap's sake.

"Hi, Mr. Berkins," I say meekly as I tap on the open door frame. He looks up from a pile of papers and smiles when he sees it's us. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No problem," he dismisses, standing from his behind his desk. He walks around the cheap uniform wooden table the school dutifully places in each classroom, and leans against the front. "What do you need?"

"Um, if you have a minute, I was actually wondering if you knew of any scholarships available, for English or otherwise, that I could maybe be eligible for?" I ask. This still feels like asking for help, but for now that's okay. "We've done our research and have found a bunch already, but we were wondering if there weren't any less widely available that we could've missed?"

"Oh," Mr. Berkins says excitedly popping up, "I'm sure there are plenty. Every year, the school receive some lists of what's available and all the new scholarships that turn up that they hand around to subject teachers. I should have it around here somewhere." He starts ruffling around his files and old papers.

"We found everything available online, I'm pretty sure," Ashton comments.

"Everything is mostly online, yes, but certain scholarships are invitation only by teachers or faculty to apply. And some aren't even available annually. Some are only every few years." He opens a third drawer of manila folders before he finally pulls one out triumphantly. "Here we are." He flips through a few sheets until he hands me a paper. "Here's a list of all the general English-related funding opportunities, but if you come back tomorrow maybe I can tell you if I can find any of the specific talent scholarships that I could recommend you for."

"Wow," I huff. "Um. Thank you. I don't mean to use platitudes, but seriously, it means a lot." Mr. Berkins lightly laughs with me.

"I noticed you were struggling with your classes towards the end of last term, and not only mine." I look at my wringing hands, abashed with an embarrassed smile. "And you were out for a while due to some health issues, right?"

"Um, yeah," I try to laugh it off. "It kinda tanked my grades. Not too many leftover merit scholarships for my average scores."

"You're talented, Andi," Mr. Berkins says with a somber tone. "And that's not just me saying that. I've heard other teachers say you have a lot of potential. Mrs. Trixie especially loves to brag about you in the teacher's lounge." We laugh. "Actually, I think I'll talk to her later today and asks her what she thinks about this. Maybe we can come up with something for you. I'll also look over some of your old work I still have lying around from last year and see if there's anything there."

"Well, shit," I laugh. I glance at Ashton who's staring with his mouth ajar. I snap in his face.

"Sorry." He shakes his head. "Just--that's seriously good news."

Mr. Berkins smiles. "My pleasure. I'm just thrilled you're not giving up. I was worried for a little there, because I know you can go far and it'd be a serious waste if a few months of hard times ruined that. I miss you two in my class, by the way."

"Even me?" Ash asks, surprised.

"Eh, none of these new kids will argue with me. Class is boring without brats." Mr. Berkins laughs with a shrug. "Now, I've gotta go print some tests before next period, so out."

"All right. Thank you again, Mr. Berkins."

"Remember to stop by tomorrow, yeah?"

"We will." I give him a smile and turn to walk down the hallway, Ashton hurrying to fall into step with me.

"Holy shit, dude," he laughs.

"I know." I take an overwhelmed breath. "Wasn't expecting that."

"You should tell Luke and Em that they don't need to worry about talking to Mrs. Trixie at next break."

"Yeah, that's nice. One less thing to do."

 _From: Andi_  
_hey guys cancel trixie visit it's handled_

 _From: Luke_  
_???_

 _From: Mikey_  
_good or bad ??_

 _From: Andi_  
_definitely Good!!! we just left mr. berkins_

 _From: Ash_  
_we'll fill you all in at lunch it's fucking awesome (!!!!)_

 _From: Mikey_  
_WHAT NO not fair I can't wait two more periods!!! tell me now!!!!_

 _From: Mikey_  
_COME ON GUYS !!!!!_

 _From: Mikey_  
_HELLO_

 _From: Mikey_  
_bitches._

\-----

"Hey, Andi," Mr. Berkins calls as I walk by his door in the halls. "Now a good time?"

"Yeah, of course," I say. I stand idly while the last few students trickle out of the room and I tell R and Michael I'll be right out. With elated smiles, they say they'll wait outside. Once the classroom is empty, save for us, he looks up from his desk.

"I wanted to talk to you about your eye analysis paper from last year."

I shift my weight between my feet. "Okay... good or bad?" I chuckle.

"No, it's good, I promise," he laughs. "I was looking through some of your old work and I remembered that I'd saved it. It was one of the best, and it gave me an idea. In fact, I showed it to Mrs. Trixie yesterday after you left. You see there is an annual competition for the arts. It's unique in that it includes a collection of different art types by a single artist. It is a triathlon of art, basically. It includes literature, visual, and performing. Between Mrs. Trixie and I, we know you have the first two covered. Now for performing, that doesn't just mean on-stage drama type of thing. I know you are very interested in music, right?"

I manage to give him a slight nod, overwhelmed and confused and curious. He smirks at my flustered reaction.

"Right. Well, if you can find a way to incorporate a form of that into your entries, you'd be perfect. The idea is to tie the three forms together. For example, you could write about a specific type of art that was heavily influenced by literature of music of the time by analyzing lyrics and melodies, instruments used. Then create your own sample piece of that type of artwork. That kind of thing. You'd have to provide a sample or example of each medium, but you get the idea."

"Now, what does the competition... do... exactly?" I ask.

"Well here is the fun part," he says with a smirk. "This competition is offered worldwide, usually ranging around ten thousand participants. From that, ten students are chosen to attend _School of the Art Institute of Chicago_ on full scholarship, and on-campus housing is included for the first year. I don't know if you've looked into any specific colleges moving forward, but it's been ranked one of the top schools for the arts in the world."

I feel the wind knocked out of me.

_Top art school in the world..._

_Full scholarship..._

_America..._

_Chicago..._

_City of culture creation..._

"You in there?" Mr. Berkins chuckles. I blink through the haze in my head.

"I don't know," I laugh breathlessly. "That's a lot to process."

"I can imagine," he laughs. "Now, I know it's a less than one-percent chance to be chosen, but I think you have a real shot at it."

"Well, shit," I breathe. "I don't know what to say..."

"I just want you to think about it. Mrs. Trixie and I will be here to help you and we'll work together."

"Oh my shit," I laugh, completely incredulous. This is everything I've never even let myself dream of. More than anything I could've imagined.

"Well, I want you to think it over, talk with your parents. Start thinking about concepts you'd be interested in focussing on and how you want to incorporate the mediums. But since it is an American school, and they start their school years around August or September, there will be a few months after you graduate before you'll actually start there. Upside, we have until September before the first phase of the competition for 2017 starts. Just a little under seven months." He claps his hands together. "Okay, I think that's all I have for you, right now. Come to me if you have any questions."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Okay."

"Maybe we can meet together with Mrs. Trixie some time next week after you've had time to think through everything and start figuring out what direction we want to go." He smiles at me and gives me a firm nod. "Now go on. I'm pretty sure your crew is still waiting outside the door."

I ecstatically nod my head and walk out, thanking him over my shoulder. My hands are shaking as I re-enter the hallway. My eyes are wide and maybe a little watery. I stand and stare at my feet.

"Andi?" Michael's voice asks warily. I snap my head up and meet his worried gaze.

"What happened? Is everything okay?"

Without restraint, I jump right into his arms. He stumbles back a bit, and I pull him into a frantic kiss, deep and hectic and galvanic and more teeth than lips through my smile. His surprise fades enough for him to hold my hips in place until I pull back enough to see his stunned face.

"He has a scholarship. It's a full-ride to the _School of the Art Institute of Chicago._ Like-- _America_ Michael! Like a top art school in the world where I can study everything I've always wanted to for _free_."

By the end, tears of mad elation are down my cheeks and my laugh is wet and _happy_. Michael stares for a minute before he catches up with everything. The moment I see it all click in his mind, I sob through my smile. Michael's eyes go wide and misty. His smile turns absolutely incandescent, and he pulls me into him so tightly I can feel his heart beating where my head is pressed to his chest. I laugh and claw at his shirt, holding him as close as I can manage.

"Oh my _god_ , Andi," he chuckles gruffly and I can hear the catch in his throat.

"I know it's a small chance I'll get it, but I maybe think I can actually _do it_."

I feel trembling arms wrap around me from behind, R's hiccuping laughs pressed into my neck. I reach to hold onto her, and I feel complete and all-encompassed by love. That sappy warmth and frustrating hysteria type.

Hours later, when we tell everyone else, that feeling returns and all the looks the eight of us wrapped in a crowded embrace receive in the lunchroom are worth it.

 


	44. Chapter 44

_You set fire to ashes. You fought through the darkness and brought me back to life, you brought me back to life._

_So even if I lose it all, I got so much left to give, I won't give up, no, no. My heart's on the front-line, I'm not afraid._

_I will love you like I've never been hurt! Run through fire for you, like I've never been burned! I'm gonna risk it all like I've never lost. Gonna give it all I've got. I will love you! I will love like I've never been hurt! Never been hurt._

_I will love you and forever! I will love you like I never. Like I never heard goodbye. Like I never heard a lie. Like I'm falling into love for the first time!_

_[«Never Been Hurt» Demi Lovato](https://youtu.be/hUJMaiY_Ovs) _

_\-----_

“I don't know what the point of lying was,” Michael laughs. “Not sure they bought we were going to take a nap. We could've easily napped at the warehouse.”

“They’re dumb, and I love naps.” I bite my lip to hold a smile.

“R’s not dumb.” He tightens his hands around my waist, thumbs gripping into the pockets of my hips.

“Would they believe us if I’d said the truth?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “I can see Ashton asking why we weren't coming in, you casually say ‘gonna go hook up’, and he laughs, ‘oh, okay, enjoy your naps, losers’.”

“Idiots.”

I let my face split into a bright smile. No point pretending this isn't the lightest I’ve felt. Michael deserves to know just how wonderful he makes me feel, that I appreciate all of him, but that I’m doing this for more than him, that I’m doing this for myself just as much. Maybe even more, if I let myself think about it long enough.

Regardless, it's us, and no longer up to him to pull our relationship along patiently waiting until I’m ready to catch up. I’m sure it won't always be one hundred percent, but it won't be like it has been.

“Hayden’s with Jax, yeah?”

“Spending the night.”

His grin turns coquettish, a smirk with a secret, lips bookends to all the beautiful words ever to flow between them.

“Perfect.”

We run up the stairs like foolish children galavanting in a world void of thunder, surrounded by sun, unscathed. Every few steps I look back over my shoulder to find Michael close behind, caught up in the same giggly feeling with a bright smile on his face that, in comparison to the stars, will never be rivaled. He keeps his hands on my hips close behind me as I grab the blankets and pillows off my bed. I turn around in his grasp to shove a pile into his arms to carry, and I pick up whatever remains.

As we all but hurriedly skip across the backyard with our arms full, I look up at the evening sky, the sun only beginning to descend into slumber, casting just enough light to fill the air with glowing rays peeking through the trees.

Michael pokes my ass with his foot in a moment of true juvenile joyousness as I ascend the ladder to the wooden landing. I do my best to quickly spread the comforter across the surface evenly. I take the pillows and extra blankets when Michael hands them up to me, throwing them into a somewhat orderly formation at one end. Once everything is up, Michael finishes climbing onto the platform.

There’s a smile on his face when he leans in. His lips feel different in the best way. The touch more amorous, not as carefully coy as the kisses I’ve become accustomed to with Michael. I never realized how much he had been walking on eggshells around me for all those months. How much he had been holding back while he held me together. It must have been exhausting, yet he’s still here.

I reach to grasp his blue hair between my fingers, scooting closer to accommodate. He hums happily against my lips when I rest my legs across his lap and he pulls me closer still. His hand on my hip digging brazenly. Nothing about Michael’s actions would suggest that for months he has been careful and calculated in his every action towards me, always gentle and cautious, guarding us both from a potential explosion. His hands are strong and his mouth is aflame in ardor. Every move is brimming with zeal and passion and love. I rest back against the padded wood, pulling Michael down with me.

We part for a brief breath, and I catch his eyes. The rims of color around his blown pupils are as green as a tropical sea, twinkling from the diamond-dusted sand on the ocean floor. They’re the eyes I once knew better than the boy behind them. They’re eyes I fell in love with.

\-----

“You know,” Michael softly whispers against my ear, breaking the delicate silence of the growing night, “I never actually got to know my results. You never told me what my eyes told you. Not sure that's fair.”

I lift my head from his bare chest, resting against my elbow, enough to hover above him without going too far away. I look into his delicate eyes, pupils slowly returning to a normal size.

A normal project report would have fled from even the crevices of my mind within weeks of handing it in, quickly pretending it never happened and making the world okay again.

But spending the following months meeting the subjects of my investigation--in every light, angle, circumstance--the words never had a chance to leave my conscience. They were only replayed with every glance, reminding me of the man hidden inside my boy, and the frightened child even beneath that.

“Pale green that fades to sea green, pigments spots of dark green.

“You have a lot of crypts, but not many furrows. Means you're tender, trustworthy, warmhearted, more than you are neurotic or impulsive, less of a tendency to deal with self-control.

“Your eyes are an enigma. Unrestrained, but also confined. Full of youthful zealous yet tainted with experience. Passionate but in control. Greens eyes typically hold mystery and curiousness.”

“You should be thankful for my curiousness.” He smirked. “What else do you think I kept coming back for? You know I have very little self-motivation.”

“I thought it was because you loved me,” I challenge, still reveling in the freedom prancing through my chest at the ability to mention the topic of love without needing a moment to bring myself back to reality.

Love didn't used to be reality. It didn't used to be real.

“Yeah, I guess that, too,” he mumbles, smiling.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don't say ‘too’,” I whispered. Michael adjusted his head to fix me with a look.

“Why not?”

“It takes away the genuineness of the statement, doesn't it?” I ask. “It becomes one agreeing with another, not declaring their own personal thoughts themselves.”

Michael pauses to ponder this and I stare at his fluttering eyelashes, delicately twitching in swift movements at the evening breeze.

“But what if it's acknowledging the other person’s feelings?” he finally says, turning to me. “When you say ‘I love you, too’ you're validifying my love for you. You believe that I love you and are strong enough in that belief that you accept it as a truth and return the sentiment. Also, when you say ‘too’, it makes me think that you're thinking the same thing as I always am. That you feel as strongly for me as I do for you.”

I stare at his goddamn eyes, the true reasons I’m sitting above my boyfriend in a fuckin’ tree past dusk. Before Michael, my night would consist of relaxing painting and jamming like idiots alone with R in our abandoned warehouse, instead of dealing with an obnoxious kink in my neck and a dusty leaf tangled in my hair.

I love those goddamn eyes.

“I love you, too, Michael.”

The sun completes its day as we lay together in the silence of the evening. A few fireflies begin to awaken from the trees and cast soft pockets of warm light into the night sky, creating a nice ambiance in the air.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do for the contest?” Michael eventually asks, lips pressed to my hair. I let out a heavy sigh.

“A little. I want to look through my sketchbook and see if any of the ideas in there could work. I know I want to include color archetypes, give depth to the piece, whatever it may be. That at least limits my medium a bit.”

He hums against my temple, tightening his arms around me and letting the silence take over for a few more peaceful moments.

“Have you thought about Chicago?” he finally asks.

“Like the city, the school, or moving to the other side of the world?”

“All of the above.”

“Of course I have,” I sigh. “Even if it’s a long shot, it’s natural to wonder about, right?”

“Of course,” Michael mumbles against my ear, lightly tracing his fingers up and down my arm. “It’s a big thing. A lot would change. Anything you’re feeling is natural.”

“I’d be leaving Hayd, R, you and the boys. A part of me thinks I’ve just begun to get settled here, how can I go and change everything?”

“Change happens, babe. It’s life. All we can do is try to make _good_ changes.”

“You were a good change.”

Michael’s lips curve into a smile I can feel against my skin.

“You were a good change, too.”

“No, I mean it,” I say, shifting so that I can look up into his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how different my life is with you in it. Like, it’s not a chore waking up when it’s next to you, you know?”

His eyes tremble before me, cheeks heating and lips pressing together tight.

“Just so you know, when you get this scholarship and become a huge art nerd at a prestigious American university and get caught up in all the glitz and glamor of the city bowing down at your magnificent talent, I’ll be by your side every chance I get.”

“Even if you become a huge rock star traveling the world with groupies lined up at every venue?” I smile.

“I mean that’d be awesome,” he laughs and I slap his chest. “But Chicago would always be my favorite stop. I’d be counting down the days and have it circled on every calendar. You’d be my favorite groupie.”

“I’m no fucking groupie, you asshole,” I laugh.

“No.” He kisses my head. “You’re no groupie. You’re like, the number one fan lady who happens to fuck the uber famous rockstar after concerts.”

“Dick,” I mumble against his skin with a smile.

I look up to the sky, finding a single star peeking through the canopy of overgrown branches. It twinkles as the leaves rustle in the wind, obscuring its light for half-seconds before it can be free to beam once again.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long one :*

_ _

_Life can turn you upside down. Chew you up and spit you out. Tear you up it never ends. It goes on and on and on and on and... (On and on and on and on)_

_Hold on to that heartbreak! Hold on to that hell you have to pay! Sometimes it's the only thing that gets you by. (The only thing that gets you by)_ _  
_

_Hold on to that heartbreak! Hold on to that hell you have to pay! All the tragedies make you who you are. Remember every scar._

_[«Remember Every Scar» Escape the Fate](https://youtu.be/XleCTkNECko) _

\-----

_Puppet on a string, bound by earth._

I stare at the words above a rough rendering of a vague human shape attached to strings connected to an image of a globe. It's dated in my sketchbook from two years ago. A piece I started but apparently never finished. I don't even know why I never came back to it. The concept is cool, and the sketch is decent.

_Puppet on a string..._

Flipping to a blank sheet in my current sketchbook, I start blocking out a more developed copy of the image.

"What's Andi up to all seriously over there?" Ashton asks the room.

"Looking through her old stuff for inspiration for the contest," R answers. I don't look up from where my pencil is creating lines on my page.

"Does she have any ideas yet?" Cal asks.

"If she knew what she was going to do, wouldn't looking for ideas be pointless?" Luke laughs, pausing his casual strumming.

"I know she wants to include color symbols and stuff," Michael comments.

"Well, that narrows it down," Ash chuckles.

_Puppet on a string..._

"She seems to think so."

"What happens if she actually wins and ends up moving to America? She'd be gone for at least four years, and then what if she gets a job or something and decides to stay longer?" Luke asks.

"Then we support her and visit as much as possible," R says timidly after a long, weighted pause.

I try to ignore their conversation and focus on the image slowly coming to life before me.

_Puppet on a string..._

"It'd just be so weird with her on the other side of the world, though, ya know?" Luke mumbles. "I looked it up the other day and it's a fifteen hour time difference. She'd be waking up when we were going to bed. It's hard to stay in touch when you only spend a few of the same hours awake."

"So we become nocturnal for a few years," Michael tries to joke, but his voice is noticeably deflated.

_Puppet on a string..._

\-----

"So have you come up with any ideas yet? Anything in mind?" Mr. Berkins asks, placing a stack of graded tests off to the side on his desk. He stands and walks around to lean against the desk in front of me.

"Yeah, I actually came across something when I was looking through one of my old sketchbooks last night that I think I might want to do," I say with a smile, pulling out both books from my bag. I flip them both open to show the new and old sketches of roughly the same image. "I talked about it with Mrs. Trixie this morning and she says she likes the concept so far."

"Okay, so explain it to me," he says, coming to look over my shoulder at the pair of drawings.

"Well, it's still a little rough and I need to develop the ideas into words a bit more, but basically what I'm thinking is having the puppet represent the population bound to the restrictions of societal expectations. And, like, we're all just marionettes being controlled by the rest of the world, but led to believe we're existing to dance and be free. We're really here to put on a show for the rest of the world, ignoring the fact that it's fake and once the curtains close we're just limp dolls unsure what to do with ourselves without the guidance of our puppet masters."

I look to Mr. Berkins, only to find him staring intently at the images resting on the desk before me. His fist is resting in front of his lips as he seems to think through what to make of the piece.

After a minute or two, I grow impatient of the silence.

"Okay, so what do you think...?"

He takes a deep sigh, exhaling slowly in a way that makes me anxious to hear his response.

"I think," he says, "that if you don't make it to Chicago, the rest of us don't stand a chance in this world."

A small smile slowly forms on my lips, growing with each second I truly think through what his words mean.

"Seriously? You think this could work?"

"Andi, I knew you had a real shot at this from the beginning. I wouldn't have suggested it if I ever thought otherwise. But this is seriously incredible, and this is only a sketch!" he laughs lightly.

"Okay well, in that case, I really wanted to ask you about color schemes," I say with a smile.

He chuckles, "Wouldn't Ms. Tracie be more qualified for that?"

"In some aspects," I laugh, "but I want to include color archetypes and symbolism, and that's more your expertise."

"All right, fair enough," he chuckles and pulls a chair up across from me. "Do you have your archetype chart from last year by any chance?"

"Maybe," I laugh as I start rummaging through my mess of a backpack. "To be fair, though, I could have anything in this bag. I once lost a burrito in here."

"I'm not even going to ask," he says amusedly, shaking his head.

"Probably a good idea," I laugh. It takes about five minutes, and Mr. Berkins pulls out his lunch to start eating in the meantime, but I eventually find it at the very bottom of my bag and triumphantly pull it out.

"Perfect," Mr. Berkins mumbles, placing his sandwich to the side and dusting off his fingers. He takes the sheet from me and starts reading it over, even though I know for a fact he has everything on that page memorized and could recite it word for word by rote. "Let's see what we have here..."

It takes an hour, but we manage to fill two sheets of paper with notes and scribbles, another with a completed color palette. I collect my pencils and markers in their pouch.

"I also wanted to talk to you about presenting your submissions," he says and places the chair he was using back behind a nearby desk. I stuff the scattered papers into my bag.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the school likes to use these types of things as promotion, kind of. Show off students to the community."

"What if I don't get in?" I ask warily.

"The school would still want to showcase your work." Mr. Berkins shrugs. "The principal came up to me yesterday letting me know the school is interested in hosting a small event."

"A full thing just for one of my pieces?" I scoff.

"Well they'll most likely include some other talent scholarships or find a way to involve different aspects of the school, but essentially, most people would be there for you," he explains.

"I don't like small talk with strangers feigning interest in my art."

Mr. Berkins just laughs, "They wouldn't be feigning interest, you little twerp. You're talented, Andi. I know there are people that would love to spend their days staring at your pieces in galleries around the world."

"I think you give me too much credit," I joke, but when I look up from my black hole of a backpack, Mr. Berkins is standing upright, staring at me with a small smile that makes me think he knows something I don't and he's loving that fact.

"I don't think I do."

"Agree to disagree."

"Yeah, all right. Just for now," he sighs and rolls his eyes. "I want you to come up with your short defense portion of your application before we meet next week."

"Which thing is that?" I ask as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

"Just a paragraph explaining why you want to study art basically."

"Got it. I'll get it done over the weekend."

"Perfect! Then I will see you same time Monday?"

"Yep," I say starting for the door. "Have a nice weekend, Mr. Berkins!"

"You, too!" he calls after I round the corner. A few steps beyond the door, I pause and walk back to stick my head in the doorway.

"Also," I say, catching his attention, "thank you."

He smiles.

"My pleasure, kid."

Everyone is sat on the front steps of the school when I exit the double doors. The squeaking of the aging hinges alert them to my presence and they all turn to me.

"Finally!" Calum exclaims, throwing his arms up and picking his bag off the ground as he stands. "I thought it was supposed to be, like, forty-five minutes. It's been almost double that."

"Why didn't you guys catch a ride with Evan or Em?" I laugh, slowly descending the steps. "I know they offered to drive you on days I have to stay late."

"We wanted to know how it went," Michael says with a smile, slinging an arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my temple as soon as I'm near enough.

"The codependency in this group is becoming a little frightening," I laugh but still sink into Michael's arms.

"Worry later, food now," Luke grumbles, pulling himself off the floor.

"Yeah, okay," I chuckle and grab my keys from my bag, unlocking the car in the center of the empty lot.

\-----

"Andi! Get off the computer, we are having family fucking dinner!"

"We're having _Macca's_ , I don't think that counts."

"It counts!"

I laugh but still close my document and shut the laptop, setting it aside on the couch and moving to the circle picnic area laid out in the center of the room.

"How much have you got on the song so far?" Luke asks, taking a burger out of a bag. He hands it to me and reaches in to distribute the rest.

"A decent amount, actually. I met with Mr. Berkins again this morning so he helped me figure out the problem I was having with the chorus." I pause to take a bite. "Now that that's more polished it's easier to figure out the next verses."

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," R absentmindedly scolds.

"How much do you still have to do?" Cal asks.

"Well, the song is pretty close to being finished, and I have a rough sketch for the visual piece, but I'm still figuring out the color scheme a little bit. Mr. Berkins helped me a lot but I'm meeting with him and Mrs. Trixie together again on Monday to work on it, so I won't be at lunch."

"Can I come?" Michael asks. I steal a sip from R's diet coke and shrug.

"I mean I guess. We're just going to be talking color meaning and archetype shit," I laugh. "You'd probably be bored."

"I don't think so," he says with a smile. "I like watching you talk art. You get all adorably into it. It's hot."

"Don't continue that conversation during family dinner, please," Calum says in a monotone, not sparing a glance up from his burger.

"Fine," Michael huffs but still sends a smirk my way that makes me laugh. He leans over to kiss my cheek before returning to his own dinner. "Do you still want help with the music, tonight?"

"Yeah, I'd love it. Maybe hearing it more will make writing the rest easier."

"I wasn't here last time you guys played," Ashton says with a big smile. "I'm excited to hear it."

"It's actually really awesome, so far," R says.

"Thanks," I mumble, smiling.

We finish dinner with comfortable small talk, catching each other up on our day and how this year seems to be flying by already. We deserve that feeling after time seemed to move so slow for so long. I forgot how beautiful Michael's smile could be when the sides weren't being tugged down by my own weights. It reminds me of being free.

The conversations also consist of complaining about homework and exams, obnoxious group projects with people we avoid in the hall. Normal teenage problems, rites of passage for any student. No tense questions about sobriety or anti-depressants. Those are now reserved for when I appear to get a little too lost in my head, and someone is there to shake me out of it and check everything is okay. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't, but my answers are honest and that's a milestone in itself. They've all sat with me more than once and talked out what was wrong, taken the time to help me figure it out when I didn't know.

They have forced me to take a complete and total break from booze for a while, the length of which it lasts is to be determined, but it's nice. They're all staying sober with

me, so it's not too hard. Sometimes I do wish there was a bottle near to sneak a sip when they look away, but then I remember all the reasons why the warehouse is now a dry zone, and the need to drown the scars and the memories fade. Oddly enough, remembering the pain is almost helpful. It keeps me going so that I don't fall back into that place.

We finish up eating and pick up the trash that has accumulated around the circle. Once everything is cleared, Luke, Cal, and Michael grab their instruments and find spots across the room.

"Hey, Ember says her and Evan are on their way over with ice cream," Ash says, looking at his phone.

"Sounds amazing," R groans.

"They'd better bring something with lots of chocolate if they know what's good for 'em," I say, reopening the document I had been in the middle of working on.

"Well, they'll be here in five, so you'll find out," Ashton says as he pulls his little box drum towards the center of the room to sit on.

"Do you want the music sheets we have so far so you can figure out your part easier?" Calum asks Ash.

"Yeah, you guys already have sheet music written?" he asks surprised. I went home for like two hours. When you said you were already done for the day I assumed that meant you got a few rough chords and got hungry."

"It was a productive two hours," Michael says shrugging.

"Apparently," Ash laughs, reaching for the papers Luke holds out for him to look over.

"We only got, like, the first verse and the chorus, but they've both been edited since then so we may have to change some stuff anyways," I say.

Ashton reads over the music, tapping on his box a little every few seconds, planning out the beat in his head.

We all sit and give him a few minutes to figure it out a bit, and Evan and Ember are crawling through the window by the time he says he thinks he's got the hang of it.

"We bring food," Evan announces, dropping a plastic bag in the center of our misshapen circle.

"What kinds?" I ask, immediately putting my laptop off to the side and going to investigate the new inventory.

"Cookie dough, mint chip, chocolate chip, and molten chocolate mocha, which I'm not entirely sure has in it but I know there's coffee and chocolate," Ember says, placing another bag down next to Evan's.

"Smart children," I mumble, grabbing the glorious cocoa explosion before anyone else gets any ideas.

R goes to grab six spoons from the basket. I quickly thank her when she hands me mine and dig into the beautiful frozen cream.

Everyone takes a few minutes to eat spoonfuls of every flavor before settling back to work on the music.

Ember and Evan sit to my right on the couch, R on my left with her legs across my lap. I take a sip of water while Calum and Michael strum the opening chords, Ash joining in with a staccato beat.

" _I did my best to notice, when the call came down the line. Up to the platform of surrender, I was broad but I was kind_ ," I begin to sing along. I'm not amazing but I'm not horrible, so it works well enough for this much.

" _And sometimes I get nervous, when I see an open door. Close your eyes. Clear your heart. Cut the cord._ "

We work for a few hours together, Ember and R even pitching in while Evan sleeps on Em's shoulder.

By midnight, the music is written for all we have and a few tweaks have been made to the lyrics. I only have one more verse to finish before we can wrap up the whole thing.

"When do you think you'll have the rest by?" Luke asks as he puts his guitar away.

"Hopefully next week? I still have a lot to do as far as the visual piece goes and I'll have to write up a design and interest defense to present to the scholarship people, so I really would love to have this part totally done."

"Well, it's fucking awesome so far, so don't stress too much," Ash says.

"Thanks for all the helps guys." I smile. "I don't know enough about writing music to be able to figure this out on my own."

"Our pleasure," Michael says, pulling me in to kiss the top of my head. "It's an honor."

"Yeah, we can say we helped the winner of a huge ass scholarship competition," Calum comments.

"I knew it!" R laughs. "This is all just about bragging rights to you!"

"Oh yeah, super glamorous, they want everyone to know," I chuckle with her.

"We'll be proud we were able to help a friend," Ashton rectifies with humorous amusement in his voice.

I smile to myself as everyone around me continues to bicker with love.

Slowly, everyone settles down into their own spot around the room, the only sound every once in a while R's nails tapping on a screen. Michael and I claim the new air mattress we brought in after Evan and Ember started spending more and more time here during my recovery, helping out sharing shifts watching over me while I slept in case something happened in my sleep. Maybe they thought I'd bleed out whilst unconscious and never wake up. I'm not entirely sure, but it was a weird time waking up to someone new staring at me. Luckily all of their paranoia levels have gone down since then.

Michael is typing out a text to his mom as I pull the blanket over the both of us, curling it up under my chin. His arm seems to automatically wrap tighter around me, and I nuzzle in against his chest.

We've come so far together. The two of us. The six of us. The eight of us.

With Michael distracted by his own device, I pull out my phone and open the unanswered text from three days ago, reading it over for the hundredth time since it was sent.

 _From: Daddy  
_ _Hey big stuff! Haven't heard from you in a while! I'm all settled in here now. Maybe you could come visit during your next school break? Maybe even Hayden would want to come along? Let me know, there's plenty of room for you both! Love you. Miss you so much. Get back to me x_

At least he's smart enough not to send more than one unanswered message.

I don't _think_ I want to see him. I don't think I could handle that at the moment. Maybe one day, but not now. Not after all the hell I've gone through pulling myself together after he left. All the hell my families have gone through holding my pieces from shattering across the floor to never be recovered.

I hate myself for missing him as much as I do. I shouldn't miss him. He doesn't deserve it, and neither do it.

Is it being strong or being weak keeping him out of my life? I wish I could give in and have whatever form of a father I can get, but that's what I've been doing for too long now. I owe it to myself to do what's best for me, what's best for my family, in the long run.

I've come this far. Gone through hell and come back stronger. I've survived all that's been thrown at me, but I want to be able to _live_ now, hopefully.

"Penny for your thoughts," Michael mumbles against my temple. I lock my phone and exhale until my lungs are clear.

"It's better that my dad's not in my life right? At least for now?"

This peaks his attention. He moves to rest on his forearm, hovering over me.

"I mean, I think so. I also know it's your decision, ultimately, but I wouldn't exactly recommend taking ten steps back and welcoming him with open arms. I don't know if any of us could handle that if I'm being honest." He pauses to look into my eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"He texted me a few days ago," I sigh. "I haven't responded, but I can't not consider it, you know?"

"What did he say?" he asks, visibly withholding any other reaction.

I unlock my phone and let him read over the message himself. I can see his eyes reading it more than once, from beginning to end. Finally, he chuckles, rough and humorless.

"I'm sorry. It's just hard for me not to be pissed at that man, at the moment," he says. "I thought we were past not telling each other about these things."

"I just wasn't ready for second opinions, I guess," I say with a shrug. "I still don't know how _I_ feel about it."

Michael falls back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling, but extending his arm for me to cuddle under. I snuggle in close, padding the fabric of his threadbare shirt between my fingertips. 

"So I'm assuming this means you're ready for second opinions now," he finally says softly. I take a deep breath and nod against his chest. "Give yourself some more time to heal. That way it's not a never, but it's not a now."

I spare one more glance to the awaiting message still open on my phone with a sigh, before locking it and tossing it to the floor. Out of sight, out of mind. I throw my leg over Michael's and hold him close, pressing a kiss to his chest where my head rests.

"I like this now too much, anyways."


End file.
